


Second Chances

by MissMorgan



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gangs, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Love, Probably Spoilers, Smut, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-09-16 23:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 38,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMorgan/pseuds/MissMorgan
Summary: You and Arthur were madly in love, before you were ripped away from him and the outlaw life. After 10 years, your feelings burn just as passionately as they did back then. But will your troubled past get in your way?"Everyone deserves a second chance, miss. So, please, take yours"





	1. 10 Years

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic, and I'm madly in love with Arthur Morgan, that lovable little outlaw! Anyway, this chapter may be a little slow as I'm introducing your backstory. Trust me.. it'll get interesting ;)

10 years.

It had been 10 years since you’d seen him, in the flesh. 

See, life hadn’t exactly been easy for you. Your mother died in childbirth, and your father, a con man, always resented you for it, couldn’t stand the sight of you. So, you were raised by your older brother, Timothy. When you were 13, your father’s life caught up to you, as you watched Timothy get shot in the head by a bounty hunter to protect you. Father took you to a friend of his, who owed him a favour. Dutch van der Linde. Your father left you in the care of a group of outlaws and oddly, you felt safe. Dutch and Hosea taught you to read, write, shoot, hunt, fish, and how to rob. And you weren’t alone. You grew up alongside Arthur Morgan…

Dutch would often send you on jobs together – small jobs, low risk. He and Hosea could see the bond between you two. One night, Arthur returned home with multiple gunshot wounds, and you were sent into a panic. You cleaned his wounds, made sure he’d be alright, and then took off in the middle of the night. You saw red. And you shot every last man who dared to hurt Arthur Morgan. Returning, covered in blood, Hosea encouraged you to just tell Arthur how you felt about him, knowing very well the boy was madly in love with you. And you’re glad you told him. Loving each other was the pinnacle of an otherwise difficult life.

Of course, it couldn’t last. Happiness never could with you. Your father came back. Practically dragged you from the camp. Everyone was reluctant to see you go, but Dutch was still indebted to your father. Before you could leave, Arthur gave you a ring – granted, he had stolen it. But he gave it to you nonetheless with a promise that one day, he’d replace it with one he could buy himself.

And then, life changed forever.

Flynn Jameson, that was his name. The man you father had sold you to for a quick bit of money. You were forced to marry the man, and with that, into this rich family full of dark secrets. You were kept locked away, beaten, raped by the man who, on the odd occasion you were taken to events, put on a fake smile and swore he loved you. The man terrified you, as did his entire family. Except Jeremy, Flynn’s youngest brother. He’d bring you extra food and sneak you around the house to get out of your room when he could. He reminded you of John Marston, which in turn made your heart swell, as it did every time Arthur Morgan popped into your head. The ring still hung on a silver chain, resting close to your heart.

A year or so back, while the entire Jameson family, save Jeremy, was away for some kind of event, Jeremy seized the opportunity to help you escape. He freed you. Gave you money, clothes, his horse, everything he could to give you a second chance  
“Everyone deserves a second chance, miss. So, please, take yours”  
You knew he was going to get himself killed, freeing you, but he didn’t care. So, you ran. And kept running. And running. Never staying anywhere too long. You camped, rented cabins, but never stayed somewhere too long, out of fear that Flynn would find you. Strawberry, Emerald Ranch, Van Horn, Rhodes, and most recently, Valentine. Where you found yourself in a sticky bar, drinking cheap whiskey, thinking of your family. Your real family. Wondering where they’d be. You thought about seeking Dutch out, but you’d seen the wanted posters. You couldn’t risk getting them caught, asking questions. No matter how much you heart longed for Arthur. Besides, a handsome, strong, kind hearted outlaw like him? He’s sure to replace you as fast as you fell for each other.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when 2 men entered the bar, laughing away. Your heart pounded, and there was a ringing in your ears. You’d know that hat anywhere. The hat you joked was looking too old and tatty, so in an attempt to “spruce it up”, you tied off some rope around it, giggling through the whole process.

“Wow. Well you’ve certainly made it look less tatty, darlin’”  
“You know, we can’t all afford the high fashion on the streets of Saint Denis!”  
“I dunno, I think I’d fit right in, now I’ve got a fancy hat”

The memory always warmed your heart through the years. And now it was there. He was there. After 10 years.

Arthur Morgan.


	2. Gunpowder and Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this guys, means a lot. Sort of an outlet for my slight Arthur Morgan obsession…

Your heart was pounding, feeling like it was about to burst from your chest. Your eyes were fixed on his toned build, his broad shoulders, that handsome stubble growing around his perfect jawline. God, he had aged well. His piercing blue eyes began to scan the room, so you ducked your head, burying your face in your drink. Every inch of you ached for him. You just wanted to march right across to him and envelop yourself in his arms. But that doubt started to sink in, that doubt you knew all too well. That one thought you came to whenever you needed push Arthur from your mind.

He’s moved on. He must have. He won’t love you anymore.

Frustrated, you downed what was left of that cheap, nasty whiskey, leaving a warm burn down your throat, and started to make your way to the door. Arthur, and his companion, who you concluded must be John, were leaning against the bar, chatting away, deep in conversation. You waited until Arthur’s eyes lit up with laughter and made your way through the tables to escape, before he could see you. No matter how much you missed him, and John, and Dutch, and Hosea, your real family, you thought it would be selfish to throw yourself back into their lives.

Making your way to the saloon door, a large hand grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back. Some drunken old man asking why you’re leaving. Great, you thought, just what I need. You try to slip out of his grasp to leave without calling attention to yourself, keeping an eye on the men at the bar. But then he started yelling, pushing you to the floor and threatening you, when you here a click.

“Leave the lady alone”  
“This don’t involve you mister. Back off.”  
**“Leave. The lady. Alone”**

You could hear the raw anger in his voice, but you could tell he was suppressing it as much as he could. Hell, if he’d thought the drunk had hurt you, he might have just shot the man. The drunkard backed out of the saloon, fear in his eyes, as he looked at the gun still pointed at his head. This was the first time you looked up at Arthur. Glaring daggers. Once the drunk had left, he hastily put his gun back in his holster, and looked down towards you. His eyes softened instantly, the corners of his mouth pulled up in a slight smile, and you swear you could see the man begin to tear up.  
“Y/N!”

In one fluid motion, he scooped you up off the floor and held you tight in his arms, and you wrapped yours around his neck. That smell… gunpowder and whiskey… it made you feel whole again. Like you were home.  
“Y/N, good to see you,” John muttered, a little awkwardly from behind Arthur. You’d honestly forgotten his presence, you were too focused on the man holding onto like he never meant to let go. “We gotta have a lot of catching up to do”  
Arthur released you from his embrace, taking a good look at you, eyes wide with disbelief. You didn’t really know what to think. He looked reluctant to let you out of his arms, but… he didn’t kiss you. Maybe he really had moved on? As much as you thought it, you rather hoped it wasn’t true.  
“Yes, we do, but we should probably get back to camp,” Arthur’s soothing voice snapped you out of your train of thought, while he frowned, mirroring your sad eyes with his own, “Y/N, why don’t you come back with us? I mean, if you ain’t got somewhere to be. I’m sure we can find the space for you, and Dutch and Hosea would be over the moon to see you.”  
You just nodded. Words couldn’t come out of your mouth. Your mind was racing. What were you supposed to do? You were so excited to see your family again, after all these years. And it seemed they still cared about you. So, what were you afraid of?

Rejection. 

You searched Arthur’s face for answers, as he laced his fingers between yours and led you outside the saloon towards the horses. The ring hanging from your neck felt heavier than ever as you were reminded of its presence. Did he still feel the way you felt about him? Was he just being friendly? Its not like, after 10 years, you could just fall straight into his bed again.

The problem was, after 10 years, all you wanted was to fall straight into his bed again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m thinking about adding writings into Arthur’s journal into the end/beginning of some chapters. What do you think? Criticise away! I’m always open to suggestions. Hope you’re enjoying this so far!


	3. I Missed You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback guys – your comments mean so much to me! Keep them coming! Enjoy <3 (For future references, passages in italics show Arthur’s journal entries)

The ride to camp was… quiet. You were silent, focusing on the soothing sound of the galloping horses to calm your nerves. Walking back into a camp of outlaws you hadn’t seen in 10 years terrified you. What if they had all changed? What if Arthur had changed?

You pushed those thoughts from you mind, and glanced over to Arthur, who was looking back at you with worry across his face. He hadn’t stopped looking at you like this, probably because of your shaking hands and shallow breathing. And the fact you hadn’t said a word to him. A hint of a smile graced his lips as your eyes locked for a second.

Arriving in camp, you noticed the gang had grown considerably. They were staying a little ways outside Valentine. Horseshoe Overlook, as John had called it. After hitching up the horses, you gave your horse's mane a brush, anything to feel less nervous. John had walked off to find Dutch and Hosea, but Arthur walked up behind, placing his large hand over your petite one, stilling the brush.  
“You gonna talk to me then, darlin’?” Arthur’s soft voice shook a little, as if he feared the answer. You tried to open your mouth, but no words came out, so instead you entwined your fingers with his, leaned back against his chest, and sighed, closing your eyes. You felt Arthur tense up for a minute, then his arms melted around your waist and he placed a soft kiss upon your head. You wished you could stay like that forever, without worrying about his feelings, or absence thereof.

“Y/N? It’s…really you.” Dutch shouted across the camp, pulling you from your tender moment with Arthur. He let go of you in and instant walked away to tend to his horse. The absence of his body wrapped around yours made you feel incomplete. As Dutch and Hosea approached you, you gave them each a big hug. You’d missed the men who raised you to be the woman you were today. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, as they turned from the campfire to stare. You felt so small, being gawked at by everyone, but at least you were greeted with open arms.  
“Its so good to see you. All of you.” You turned to look across at Arthur as the words came out of your mouth, and just as quickly as his eyes brightened when he heard your voice, and the corners of his mouth tugged up into a faint smile, he snapped straight out of it and sulked over to his tent. It worried you, seeing him like this. This isn’t the reunion you dreamed of.  
“Y/N, do you…” Dutch hesitated, looking for the right words as to not offend you, “do you have anywhere to… I mean are you with…”  
“What Dutch is trying to say is will you be joining us again?” Hosea interjected, hand on Dutch’s shoulder. You saw that look in Dutch’s eyes, pity. The same look he’d given you when your father left you with him. And again when he took you away. Dutch had always looked at you as the daughter he never had, and in a weird, dysfunctional way, you looked at him, and Hosea, as fathers. You started tugging on your shirt, feeling embarrassed at how useless you must seem to them right now.  
“I don’t want put no trouble on you, Dutch. I mean, you’ve got a lot of mouths to feed. I don’t wanna impose…” Dutch silenced you with a hug, softly chuckling as he rubbed your back, soothing your nerves a little.  
“Nonsense. You’re never a burden to us, little one. We’ve all missed you.”

By the time you were introduced to everyone in the camp, and a couple of the girls helped set up a tent for you, Horseshoe Overlook was lit by the moon, and everyone seemed to be retiring to bed. You felt at home. Everyone was so welcoming, and it seemed that, over the years, Dutch, Hosea, John and Arthur had been filling the camp with stories about you. You weren’t sure about Micah, though. Something about the way he looks at you just seemed… off. But that didn’t matter to you. What did was Arthur’s attitude to you being in camp. He hadn’t come out of his tent since you’d arrived with him. Whenever you cast a glance in his direction, he’d be scrawling something in his journal (it did warm your heart to see he’d continued writing in one, since you bought him his first one for his birthday after Dutch had taught him how to read and write), or have his head buried in his hands, or he’d have the most tortured, confused look on his face. Anytime your eyes happened to meet, he’d instantly look away. It was frustrating – how did he really feel about you being back in his life?

As you settled into your cot, you heard hesitant footsteps approaching your tent. Out of instinct, your hand hovered over your revolver sat on the table next to you.  
“Hey there.”  
Your arms relaxed to your sides as you turned around to greet the shaky voice behind you.  
“Hey, Arthur.”  
His mouth pulled up into a teasing smile, “Oh, so you’re talking to me now, are you?” You just smiled, shaking your head. It was so easy to fall back into your old ways with each other. Teasing, flirting. “I just came over to apologise. I…” His voice started to shake again, along with his hands, as concern furrowed his eyebrows and his adorable smile had long departed. He cleared his throat and spoke slower, deeper, masking the nerves, “I didn’t know what to say. I mean… I always expected, if we ever saw each other again, you’d look a little happier to see me.”  
Your breath hitched as you looked at him. So vulnerable, sad, worried. You saw yourself in him. You hadn’t realised you’d instinctively closed the distance between you two. Raising your hand to cup his cheek softly, you lifted his eyes to look into yours. You could barely whisper the words “I’m sorry” before you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest. He responded instantly, enveloping you with his arms and placing another gentle kiss on your head. That distinctive gunpowder and whiskey scent surrounded you again, making it seem like the rest of the world just disappeared. After what seemed like minutes of you holding each other, Arthur started to step back, his hand wandering upwards to your neck, running back down your chest to grasp at the ring.  
“You really kept this all this time?” Your cheeks turned pink, as heat rose to your face, and you hoped the moonlight wasn’t bright enough for Arthur to notice. It seems he did, and he held your face in both his hands, “You know, not a day had gone by where I didn’t think about you, darlin’”

That was all you needed to hear. You didn’t know what he meant by it, but you didn’t care. A warm feeling spread across your broken heart, and you just needed him again. Without hesitation, you crashed your lips against his. After a few seconds of confusion, Arthur kissed back, one hand sitting upon your waist, the other entangled in your hair, pulling at it gently at the nape of your neck. He softly bit your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from your throat, which he swallowed with more kisses. You licked along his bottom lip, and he allowed your tongue through his lips. After a few more seconds, he pulled away, both of you starved for breath. You could see the shock on his face from your sudden boldness, and the longing in his eyes matched yours. Your hands remained on his chest and the back of his neck, while his stayed resting upon your waist.  
“I’ve missed you,” You said quietly, trying to keep your voice from faltering, “everyday, for 10 years, I’ve missed you. But… a lot has happened to me. I just want things to go back to the way they were, I just don’t know how long I’ll take to be okay. But if you don’t feel the same, I understand.” An almost strangled chuckle came from Arthur’s mouth.  
“You haven’t changed one bit, have you? Y/N, I’ve waited 10 long years for you, I can wait a little longer. I’m always gonna be here for you, take all the time you need.” With that, he pressed a soft kiss to your swollen lips, and you smiled. For the first time in years you genuinely smiled, not fully believing this was all real. That he was back in your life. You took a small step back towards your cot.  
“Goodnight, Arthur Morgan” You smiled as you said his full name, knowing how he loved that. He began to walk back to his tent, wearing a smile of his own.  
“Goodnight, Y/N”

 

_She kept that goddamn ring. All these years. She’s a fool for wanting me. I wasn’t lying, I’ve thought of her every day, in every possible way. Those thoughts never compared to actually holding her again today. And kissing her. Never wanted it to end. And hearing her say my name again… the way it falls so melodically from her mouth. Like my name is the only thing that should be leaving her lips. Fuck, she’s making me get all poetic again. John better not find this…_  
_Felt so possessive of her at the bar. Nearly shot that bastard, but don’t think that would’ve made the best impression. Although, it’s nothing she’s never done for me before. Guess we’re both as crazy as each other._  
_Can’t really believe she’s here. Dutch and Hosea seem happy. Wish I’d spent more time with her this evening, but I had no goddamn clue what to say. Dutch told me back when she left she was getting married. That crazy, lost look in her eyes, the one she had when I first met her, tells me something dark happened in these last ten years. I know she ain’t ready to tell me, but I’m afraid for her._


	4. When I See A Lady, I’ll Ask Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again so much for all your lovely comments! I'm loving writing this, and want to keep updating it as often as I can. Thanks for all the support and hope you enjoy this chapter!

That night was the first night, for as long as you can remember, you slept without nightmares. You attributed it to the fact you finally felt safe, surrounded by people who cared. But deep down you knew this was about Arthur. You woke up feeling giddy, excited to see him again today. You stretched out your weary muscles and got dressed, greeted as you walked out of your tent by Dutch.  
“Morning Y/N! Coffee?” he handed you the steaming mug and you smiled graciously, bringing it up to your lips and letting it warm you through the frosty morning. “If you’re feeling up to it, a few of the boys are headed into Valentine later, if you want to join them? Just looking around the place.” Dutch had that devilish grin on his face. You spoke his language. You were looking for people and places to rob, not that it bothered you. In fact, it excited you. Maybe getting back into the lifestyle would help you feel normal again. You agreed to go, and went to find Arthur, as you knew he was heading there too. You found him in his tent, forgotten coffee on the side, scribbling away in that journal again. You noted how tattered and broken it was looking. You placed your hands on your hips, knowing he wasn’t even aware of your presence yet, smiling at his concentrated face, eyebrows furrowed.  
“Do you think a lady enjoys waiting on you, Mr Morgan?”  
He looked up, threw his journal under his pillow and walked over to you, towering over you, his face inches from yours.  
“When I see a lady, I’ll ask them” He gave you a wink as you punched his shoulder, both of you laughing as you made your way to your horses.  
“So, you’re still keeping a journal, huh?”  
“Yeah,” Arthur’s hand rubbed the back of his neck as he grew a little shy, “I er… it helped with things. When you were gone. Just never stopped.” You gave him a reassuring smile as you both started heading out of camp.

Most of the ride, you spoke about Dutch and Hosea, and John and Abigail. Arthur said he’d introduce you to Jack sometime soon. You couldn’t believe John Marston had a son! You spoke about the other guys back at camp, too.  
“What’s the deal with Micah? He been around long?”  
“Micah is… well he’s a loose cannon. Been riding with us for 6 months, I think? Dutch trusts him, but,” He paused for a while, sighing deeply, “I’m not too sure. It’s like every job with him turns into a massacre”  
“Yeah, something about him just doesn’t seem right.”

Arriving in Valentine, Arthur spotted Javier, Charles and Bill walking into the saloon. You told him you’d catch up in a minute, saying you needed to grab something at the store. As you turned to leave, he grabbed you round the waist and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then let you go. Little moments like that made you feel so happy. It’s a pity you had to waste all this time apart, but you were so pleased you could be like this with him again. 

You headed into the general store, greeting the shopkeeper, and instantly found exactly what you were looking for. You bought a black, leather bound journal, and metal adornments and a wolf engraved on the back. Placing it into your saddlebags, you made your way for the saloon, and found Arthur stood at the bar with Javier and Charles.  
“Try not to scare this woman off with your ‘charm’, Arthur” Charles complained as he rolled his eyes at the man beaming at you, wrapping an arm around your waist as soon as you walked close.  
“I’ll have you know I have a way with the ladies.” Arthur squeezed you closer, looking at you to back him up. You gave him a teasing smile.  
“Well when I see a lady, I’ll ask them.” He chuckled, shook his head, and pushed a bottle of beer your way. “Didn’t you say Bill would be here too?”  
“Yeah, we’re just waiting on…” Javier was interrupted by the saloon doors bursting open, “there he is. Oh, no. So much for keeping a low profile.” You all watched as Bill walked straight into another patron. You and Arthur exchanged a knowing look, and you gave him a wink, grabbed your beer, downed what was left and smashed the bottle over another patron’s head. You could hear grunts from the men you were standing with as they all grabbed other drunkards getting involved in the fight. You noticed the man from last night, the one that grabbed you, heading straight for the door. You punched and kicked away at the men putting up a fight, taking a couple of punches yourself, but nothing too serious. Looking across, you spotted Arthur by the door beating a man to an inch of his life, but you also spotted another man running towards him with a broken bottle. You threw yourself towards him, tackling him to the ground. He managed to slice you across your exposed collar bone, but you knocked him out soon after, not being bothered by the blood trickling down your body.

There was barely anyone left in the bar, besides a man Charles was dealing with, and a brute attacking Javier. Tommy, you believe someone had called him. Bill had sat down in the corner, bottle of whiskey in hand, revelling in what he had started. You rolled your eyes at him. As you turned around to help Javier, you saw Tommy throwing Arthur through the window and onto the muddy street.  
“Come on, pretty boy!” Ooh, Arthur was not going to like that one.  
You headed out the saloon, leaning against the hitching posts with Charles as Arthur fought Tommy. Seemed like the whole town had surrounded the pair, cheering this Tommy on. But you were focussed on the way Arthur’s body moved as he fought. The way his muscles bulged as he landed a punch. His broad shoulders. The way his busted lip made you want to kiss him. The crowd started to disperse as Tommy lay in the mud, unconscious, and a man begged Arthur to leave him be. He made his way over to you, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at how attractive he looked all rugged and covered in mud and sweat. He noticed that, giving you a suggestive smile, but concern quickly took over his face as he raised his hand to the gash you had across your collar bone. You gave him a quick smile and reassured him it was fine.  
“Making new friends again, I see, Arthur” a voice called out as Arthur winced, rolling his shoulder. You turned to see Dutch approaching you with a strange looking fellow.  
“Look who we found sniffing about!” Dutch chuckled as he gave both you and Arthur a look up and down, unsurprised at the fight you’d been a part of.  
“Josiah Trelawny…” Arthur muttered in disbelief as the others approached, looking a little battered, but otherwise surprised at the man standing beside you.  
“Javier, Charles, Bill, good to see you again. And,” he turned to you, “I don’t believe we’ve met”  
“Y/N”  
“Ahh, I’ve heard much about you, miss. Josiah Trelawny.” He extended his hand and you shook it, making you wonder again what kind of stories the men had been telling about you. 

Josiah told you all that he’d seen one of their men, Sean, in Blackwater. Dutch ordered Javier to investigate with Trelawny and sent you and Arthur home to get cleaned up. As you arrived back into camp, night had fallen. The girls looked at you and Arthur and rolled their eyes.  
“Seems you really know how to show a lady a good time, huh Arthur?” Karen teased from across the camp.  
“Well, when I see a lady, I’ll…”  
“Shut it, pretty boy.” You giggled, cutting him off, as he sighed, realising that nickname wasn't going anywhere. He grabbed your hand and led you to his tent, insisting he take a look at that wound. Grabbing a bowl of water and a rag, he cleaned the dried blood from the cut. His rough, calloused hand wandered across your shoulder as he gentle ran his fingers across the wound.  
“Guess it weren’t as bad as it looked.” He gave you a soft smile, which you mirrored. You stood up, pointed for him to sit on the cot where you stood from, and grabbed the rag, starting to clean the mud and blood from his face. When clean, he stood to shrug off his jacket. You remembered what you’d bought before and told him to stay put while you retrieved it from your horse. Upon entering his tent, you saw he’d removed his shirt, and your eyes wandered across his body, the muscles across his back and shoulders tensing and relaxing as he rolled his shoulder again.  
“I know you’re staring, Y/N.”  
You blushed a little. When he turned around, he saw the book in your hands and gave you an inquisitive look.  
“I noticed how old yours was looking and thought, maybe, you could use a new one.” He took the journal from your hands and ran his fingers across the wolf engraving. Dropping it onto his bed, he threw his arm around you, grunting and wincing a little. You took a step back and shot him a disapproving look.  
“You know you can just ask me, right? Rather than just passive aggressively letting me know it hurts.”  
“Fine,” he chuckled and sighed, “will you give me a shoulder massage? Think I landed on it in that fight.” You smiled at clicked your fingers, signalling him to sit down again, as you crawled onto the bed yourself behind him. Your fingers started to work on the knots you could feel in his broad, muscular shoulders. He moaned under your touch. God damn this man for being so attractive in everything he does.  
“Stay with me tonight.” It was more of a demand than a question that Arthur posed. Your hands froze, and he placed one of his over yours, giving it a little squeeze. You lent forward, giving him a kiss on the cheek.  
“Okay.” You whispered into his neck. He spun around on the bed, placed a hand on the back of your neck, and kissed you passionately. When he pulled away, you looked into his eyes, and saw nothing but happiness across his face. It reminded you of the way he looked at you after you confessed your feelings for him. He laid you down to get comfortable and sat in the chair the other side of the tent himself.  
“I’ll join you in a minute darlin’” You giggled slightly as you watched him pick up that new journal and start writing away. After a few moments, he snapped it shut, and crawled into the cot. He wrapped his arms around you, your back to his chest, as he stroked your hair and placed soft kisses across your head, neck and shoulders until you fell asleep.

_Just when I think I couldn’t get any happier, she goes and does something like this. Bought me this journal. Its just like the one she bought me all those years ago, with the wolf. She’s utterly adorable._  
_She agreed to stay with me tonight. I hope she didn’t notice me beating the shit out of that guy that harassed her yesterday. She seemed to be enjoying the fight though. Watching her get all feral like that, reminded me of the old days. Maybe it’s why I got all sentimental and wanted her to stay._  
_Guess we’re off to save Sean. As annoying as he is, I’ve missed the bastard. Glad he’s alive. Hope we can get to him in time._


	5. Out Of Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter today than the last couple – my apologies. I’ll make it up to you in the next one ;) Hope to update it again either later or tomorrow with Chapter 6.

Over the past few days, the men had been planning Sean’s rescue. The night before they all left, Arthur asked you to stay with him again. The way he looked at you made you feel so whole and wanted. It was almost like he feared every day with you was his last. You concluded that when you were ripped away from him years ago, it left just a big a scar on him as it did on you. While he was gone, you took the opportunity to get to know some of the others a little better, so you found yourself sat around camp with the girls, ridiculing Uncle for being completely drunk at midday.

You had a lot of respect for Abigail. It couldn’t be easy, raising a child in this environment, especially with John. You could see, no matter how much they would argue, they still loved each other, and Jack, more than anything. You noticed Jack was sat by the cliff edge on his own. Probably to get away from Abigail and John yelling again. You walked up next to him and sat down, dangling your legs off the edge as he did.  
“Hey there, Jack.”  
“Hi Auntie Y/N!” he seemed excited to see you. Not many others at camp would spend time with him, save for his parents, Hosea, and Arthur. You grinned at the way he called you ‘Auntie’, much like how he said ‘Uncle Arthur’.  
“What’re you reading?” You saw a damaged, old comic book in his hands.  
“Otis Miller and the Boy from New York. Uncle Arthur found it for me! I had to leave all mine when we moved.” It warmed your heart, seeing how Arthur cared for the boy. You were glad that rough, gunslinging outlaw showed that caring side to others, too. You listened as Jack told you all about the adventures in his comic book, until Abigail came and joined you.  
“I swear, I’m gonna kill that man someday.” Abigail muttered so that Jack couldn’t hear her. You just giggled.  
“But you do love him, and he loves you. I can see you’re both hot-headed, short tempered people, but at the end of the day you always make it work. For him.” You looked over to Jack, who was on the last page of his comic book. To try and keep his attention, and keep Abigail from murdering his father, you suggested something new. “Why don’t we make a necklace for your mother? There’s plenty of daises here.”  
“Yes! And you could make a crown for Uncle Arthur's hat!” You chuckled at Jack’s idea, imagining Arthur taking out bounty hunters and knocking back whiskey with a flower crown upon his head. You, of course, instantly agreed it was a brilliant idea, and got to work, while Abigail and Jack made a necklace each. You worked through the afternoon, laughing away at their stories, and trying to avoid talking about yourself. Until Jack approached an interesting topic.  
“Auntie Y/N, are you and Uncle Arthur going to get married?” Abigail snapped her head up to look at Jack as if to stop the words coming out of his mouth, then softened and turned to you, intrigued to what your answer would be. You were silent, so Jack continued, “He told me you still had the ring he gave you, and that he was going to keep his promise someday.”  
“Things are… complicated, Jack. We’ve been apart a long time. Things aren’t easy, but perhaps, one day, if he wanted to…”  
“But do **you** want to?” Abigail asked, shuffling closer to you. She knew if Jack heard your answer, he wouldn’t keep his mouth shut and would announce it to Arthur, so she left Jack to his daisy chain.  
You sighed, “Of course I do. I want what you have. Maybe less of the yelling.” You winked at Abigail. She feigned offence, but gave an excited little squeal.  
“Trust me, the man can act all tough, but he’s been hung up on you for as long as I’ve known him.” Abigail said reassuringly. You didn’t truly know where you and Arthur stood right now. It wasn’t like a new relationship, but you couldn’t just act like you used to either. And after all that had happened to you over the last ten years, it certainly wouldn’t be easy.

The men arrived back into camp as the sun began to set. Sean was with them, an Irish fellow with a loud mouth and cocky attitude, yet, somehow, he made you smile. Probably because you found it funny watching him wind Arthur up. Jack sprinted up to Arthur when they arrived, announcing you had a gift. He looked at you expectantly and burst into a fit of laughter when he saw the flower crown you placed on his head. You giggled.  
“Do you like it Uncle Arthur?” Jack asked, smiling ear to ear.  
“I’ll treasure it forever.” He smiled and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head as you wrapped your arm around his body. Jack ran off again, and dove into another book.  
“I guess it all went well then?” You asked, trying to make conversation but, in reality, digging to see if he’d got hurt.  
“I’m fine, darlin’” he laughed as you prodded his side checking for bruises, “Sean’s back, and I think Dutch is throwing a party tonight. We’ve got lots to celebrate for. We’re safe, we have Sean, we have you.” You smiled at his positive attitude, but the idea of a party scared you. You’d seen how some of the men acted around women sober, and you hated to think of how they acted drunk. Trying not to think about everything, you gave Arthur a peck on the cheek and headed to your tent. You curled up in your cot, head resting on your knees, trying to steady your breathing.

Alcohol was flowing all night, as you nursed your own bottle of whiskey. Arthur kept coming to sit with you for a while, but usually got pulled away by Dutch or Sean. You watched him sat around the campfire, singing along with the others, and smiled. You mostly kept to yourself, speaking a little to Lenny, Charles and Abigail. You felt so out of place, and a little intimidated. 

“What’re you doing by yourself?” you heard a drunken, disgruntled voice behind you, “Aren’t you Arthur’s plaything?” You turned to see Micah approaching you, whiskey in hand.  
“What?”  
“Just seems a shame, woman like you wasting your time with him.”   
“And why is that? Believe me, he’s much more a man than you’ll ever be.”

Just as quickly as Micah’s hand came to your throat, choking you, you swiftly lifted your knee up into his groin and pushed him to the ground, revealing a surprised Arthur behind him. He grabbed your hand and led you back to your tent.  
“Seems you didn’t need my help after all.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His hands were trembling in anger, and you could see him glaring at Micah, who was currently being scalded by Hosea.  
“I know what alcohol can do to a man.” He turned to search your eyes, but they were empty. Blankly, you stared out of the tent, completely lost in thought. Carefully, he took your face in his hands.

“Want to get out of here, darlin’?”


	6. Bad History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Another chapter! I was far to excited to write and upload this one... It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for ;) Again, I just want to thank each and every one of you for taking the time to read this. It means a lot to me, as I kind of have no idea what I’m doing :D

You and Arthur headed out of camp on your horses, not really sure where you were going. Anywhere but there. Mostly so he could make sure you were okay without everyone else fussing over you. Partly because he needed to leave to avoid punching Micah’s lights out. You were just content getting away from so many people and getting some time alone with Arthur. You could see the rage that built up inside him, but you’re more than capable of defending yourself, and he knew that. Perhaps it was just because it was Micah, perhaps there was more to it.  
“Must’ve been a long while since you slept in a real bed, huh?” You were pulled out of your thoughts by Arthur breaking the silence.  
“Longer than you’d think,” you replied, “I’ve forgot the feeling.”  
“How about we stay the night in Valentine, then? I don’t think I can go back right now, and I can see you weren’t all that into that party anyway.” Honestly, a night in a hotel sounded perfect. You nodded and hummed in agreement, and you starting heading for Valentine. You found it adorable when Arthur would calm his horse, with the odd “You done good, girl”. This man kills and robs people for a living, you thought, and here he is being all sweet and sensitive. You chuckled at the thought, feeling lucky you were one of the few that got to see both sides.

When you arrived, and hitched your horses, Arthur turned to you, looking a little sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck and closed the distance between you.  
“Do you… want your own room? Or would you like…” You cut him off, pulling his chin up to look into his eyes.  
“I don’t want to be alone right now.” Not with all these dark thoughts of your time with your husband and what he did to you flooding your mind, but you didn’t add that part. He smiled, and took you by the hand, walking into the hotel. He didn’t let go of your hand as he got the room key and led you upstairs, until you were both inside the room and he locked it. You both removed your guns and shoes, intending on relaxing in bed. He then rushed over to you and took you in his arms, and you wound yours around him.  
“I’m so sorry.” Arthur whispered into your ear. He sounded so broken and vulnerable.  
“Why? S’not your fault. And you’ve seen me fight off larger men before…” You stopped as he abruptly pulled back and placed a hand around the ring hanging from your necklace.  
“No, I don’t mean Micah. He’s crazy, but I know you could take him in a fight.” He looked solemnly at the ring.  
“Then what?”  
“I should have been there. Whatever happened to you. Whatever than monster you married did to you, I can see in your eyes it’s broken you. That same broken look you had when we met. When your brother got shot. I wish I could have been there to stop him.” You stopped a tear rolling down Arthur’s cheek, as yours came flooding over. Arthur instantly apologised again for upsetting you, drying your tears. He scooped you up and placed you on the bed, and just laid there holding you for ages. You opened up to him about your bad history. You told him about Flynn. How he and his family practically kept you hostage. How he used to beat you, rape you. How he and his friends would get drunk and use you. You expected to feel Arthur tense and get angry, wanting to hunt down and kill the man. But he knew that wasn’t what you needed. Right now, you needed his support to make you feel like you again.

After a while, Arthur started to shift beside you, changing the way he lay, and he lent down to press kisses all over your face. Starting off soft and sweet but growing silly as you giggled at him.  
“There’s that cute lil’ laugh I wanted to hear.” Arthur beamed at you. You felt this warm feeling wash over you, pooling in your lower stomach. You grabbed the back of his neck and pushed his lips to yours, hungrily kissing him. He responded just as passionately, as he climbed on top of you, one hand in your hair, the other on your waist, squeezing his fingertips into your flesh. You pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a growl from him. You started to unbutton his shirt, but he pulled away slightly. His eyes, once an enchanting bright blue, were blackened with lust. He laced his fingers with the hand that was trying to undress him.  
“Are you sure, darlin’? We don’t have to do this. No need to rush if it don’t feel right.”  
“Arthur Morgan,” you used his full name to let him know you meant business, and cupped his face with both hands, “I want you.”

That was it. Those few words sent him into a frenzy, as he recaptured your lips with his. He allowed you to unbutton his shirt, and you pushed it off over his broad shoulders. He shook it off without breaking the kiss, and you dragged your nails across his back and shoulders, getting another growl in response. He sat up, and pulled you up with him. One by one, he removed your clothes, leaving kisses in their wake. First, he removed your shirt, exposing your breasts. He pressed kisses across them both, taking them into his mouth, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You could feel him smile at the noises you made. Then, his hot, open-mouthed kisses roamed down across your stomach, until he reached your pants, which he removed slowly. He left you totally bare, and where you would usually feel afraid, self-conscious or vulnerable, you felt safe in his hands. Arthur had this way of making all your insecurities melt away, as he would leave kisses all over your body, worshiping the parts you disliked about yourself. You felt his hand run up your leg, and his mouth made his way up the other. He lent his body over yours, taking you mouth with his, as he rubbed his fingers over your entrance, feeling how wet you’d gotten. A moan escaped his lips this time, and then he slid a finger inside. He slowly pushed it in and out, stroking the nerves inside, making your legs shudder. If there was one main thing you remembered about sex with Arthur, it was that he was so selfless. He’d make sure he’d make you come undone at least once before he even thought about himself. As he continued pumping his fingers inside you, adding another one, he rubbed your clit with his thumb, and you could feel yourself nearing the edge. Your hands had found there way into his hair as you threw your head back in pleasure, moaning loudly as your orgasm washed over you, not caring who could hear.

You heard Arthur begin to unbuckle his belt, and your hands reached down to help, but he grabbed your wrists and placed your arms above your head. He flashed a devilish smile at you, and removed his pants, his large, hard cock finally unconstricted. In one fluid motion, he pushed himself inside of you, both of your moans melding into one beautiful sound. His hand stroked your hair and cupped your cheek as he slowly pushed himself in and out, causing shameless moans to spill from your lips, accompanied by grunts of his own. As he started to pick up the pace, you raked your fingernails up his back again, causing a hiss from the man above you.  
“Jesus, Y/N.” Arthur moaned, as you smiled up at him, biting your lip. His hands grabbed your thighs and guided your legs to wrap around him, and you pulled him closer, causing him to pound into you deeper. He quickened his pace a little more, as his thrusts grew more erratic. You could tell his release was building, as was your own.  
“Oh, Arthur.” You moaned, throwing you head back again. He cradled your face in his hand and guided your eyes back to his, kissing you passionately again.  
“Look at me, Y/N.” Arthur’s voice was shaky, as you were both reaching your peak. Just as you crumbled, looking deeply into his darkened eyes, your walls contracting around him, he cried out your name once more as he found his release.

After holding you for a while, Arthur got up to grab you his shirt to wear. Yes, it was a little cold, but you know how much he loves seeing you in his shirt, especially after sex. You giggled, feeling so happy and giddy. Arthur pulled out his journal from his satchel and perched at the end of the bed, beginning to write. You eyed him suspiciously.  
“You better not be writing ‘I just had sex’, Mr Morgan.” He rolled his eyes at you and chuckled, but you watched up scribble something out. You threw your head back in laughter and settled into bed. Shortly after, you felt his warm arms wrap around from behind you, and soft kisses pressed against your shoulder.  
“Are you okay?” He tenderly asked, stroking your hair. You turned in his arms to face his and ran a hand through his stubble. He was frowning with worry.  
“I’m more than okay, Arthur.” That brought a smile to his face as you saw that worry disappear.  
“I…” he began to speak, then paused, deep in thought. He almost sounded nervous “I…erm…”  
“What is it?” You asked softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he shook his head.  
“I don’t wanna say it. Don’t want to make you feel like you gotta say it. I know we said it before, but it’s been a while, and I…” You stopped Arthur, placing a finger to his lips.  
“I love you, too” 

You hadn’t seen the man so happy for a long time. You shared another kiss and got comfortable, both starting to feel your eyes close with fatigue. It was so good to be sleeping in a bed for once, and even better to be shared it with such an incredible man.

“I love you, Y/N”

_~~I just had sex~~ _  
_She’s incredible. Y/N has gone through so god damn much in her life, it breaks my heart. She should be broken, but she lives her life in whatever way will bring her happiness. I admire her. I wish I could have prevented so much hurt for her. But I’m here now. And I love her._  
_I love Y/N so fucking much…_


	7. Brave Kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for all the lovely comments on the previous chapters. It’s really pushing me to keep writing. I’ve been updating daily, but with it coming up to Christmas, I’m heading home for the holidays, and have essays I should be writing! Might not find as much time to be writing and updating this daily, and you might have to put up with a few more grammar errors than usual if I end up doing some on my phone. Rest assured I will not stop this story, I’ve got many parts planned out and I’m in this for the long haul. I’m also going to start writing some flashback chapters in another work as part of this series, so keep an eye out for that! I want to explore a young Arthur and Reader falling in love because GAH SO CUTE.
> 
> ALSO (shameless self-promotion) but I’m absolutely addicted to taking pretty screenshots in RDR2 so, if you want to, check out my Instagram red.dead.photography and see what I’m up to, and come say hi!

The nights seemed so much easier with Arthur sleeping by your side. Every night since that night in Valentine, you’d stayed together. Amorous activities were tough in camp, especially since he made you want to scream his name over and over. So you decided, once a week, you two would head into a town and rent a room, so you could fully enjoy each other without worrying about driving everyone else mad.

You had grown very close to Abigail and Jack over time. Where others saw weakness in her, you saw strength. She was a mother determined to do anything to keep her family safe. Even if it meant scalding John from time to time. Generally, you found, he deserved it. Arthur had told you how he disappeared for a whole year, leaving them behind. You didn’t completely understand it, but you could see Arthur held resentment for John for it, no matter how much they got along.

On this particular morning, you awoke to the smell of coffee on the beside table. You felt cold, noticing Arthur’s arms weren’t wrapped around you, as they usually were. You turned to see him rummaging around, looking for something. You stood up and placed your hand on his shoulder.  
“Everything okay?”  
“Yeah, sorry if I woke you. Just looking for my fishing rod. It’s around here somewhere…” You pushed him aside as he continued to look. His chest was a mess, but you knew exactly where he’d put it. You pulled it out and handed it to him, and he smiled back at you, “What would I do without you?” He chuckled as he pulled you into a warm embrace. When you parted, you raised your eyebrow and threw an inquisitive look at the fishing rod.  
“Oh! Abigail asked if I could do something with Jack, and I remembered our fishing trips with Hosea. Though it might be fun.”  
“That sounds nice.” You smiled at Arthur, as you buried your face in the cup of coffee sat on the side.  
“Want to join us? I’m… well you know how god damn awful I am. Might be embarrassing if we come back empty handed.” You nodded at his offer and got yourself ready. Heading over to your horse, you watched as Arthur pulled Jack up onto his horse and held him steady. It made your heart flutter, seeing him being so… well, paternal. You weren’t sure you would ever see that in him, but it was adorable to watch. Arthur was teasing Jack on the ride over, telling him how he needs to start earning his keep, and you giggled away at the pair. He had also asked how Jack was, since he’d been sick a few days back, but he seemed to have gotten over his sickness.  
“You’re a brave kid.”  
“So, just like you!” Jack replied. You could tell Jack was in awe of Arthur, more so than his own father, anyway. It was good that he had someone like him to look up to.  
“Well, I don’t know about brave,” Arthur laughed, “ain’t much of a kid no more. Though, your momma and this one might disagree.” He threw a glance over towards you, and you laughed.  
For the rest of the ride, Jack and Arthur spoke to each other in hushed tones, so you couldn’t hear. When you reached the river nearby camp, you all dismounted, and they continued to walk to the river ahead of you, talking and laughing away.  
“What’re you two finding so funny, then?” You called ahead to Arthur. He spun around and gave you the most innocent look he could muster and replied in a child-like voice.  
“Nothing!”

You stood back as Arthur talked Jack through how to fish and showed him with his own rod. You looked on with adoration at the pair. Jack looking up to ‘Uncle Arthur’, and Arthur giving him encouragement as they waited for a bite. You took up your own place the other side of Jack and cast your own rod. Within a minute, you got a bite, and reeled in a small chain pickerel.  
“You caught one!” Jack gazed up at your fish with wonder. You placed it in his hands.  
“Look at him, he’s almost as small as you, Jack.” Arthur ruffled Jack’s hair and smiled at you.  
“We should really throw these little ones back, give them a chance to grow. Want to throw him back in the river?” You asked Jack, and he threw the fish, watching it swim away again. It seemed that was enough excitement for Jack, as he went to pick flowers.  
“Told you I was terrible at this.” Arthur laughed, as he folded up his fishing pole.  
“You’re not patient enough for fishing. Seems Jack shares that feeling too.” You both chuckled at the boy.

Jack and Arthur had a conversation about how boring fishing was, and it made you laugh. You were all sat on the river’s edge as Jack showed off the necklace he made for Abigail.  
“What a fine young man,” you saw Arthur shoot up, as he stood between the strangers and you and Jack. His arm flew up instinctively to hold you two behind him, trying to protect you. The voice sounded oddly familiar, “in such complex circumstances. Arthur, isn’t it? Arthur Morgan?” The first man said, as the second loaded his gun. You got a good look at them for the first time, and you recognised them. Agent Milton and Agent Ross of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Your breathing grew shallow, remembering how you’d met them before at one of your husband’s parties. You had heard the men had run into trouble with Pinkertons in Blackwater, but you had no idea they would come looking for them here. Jack reached up to grab your hand, as your other hovered over your pistol.  
“You’re a wanted man, Mr Morgan. There’s $5000 dollars for your head alone.” Milton stated, without an ounce of compassion considering yours and Jack’s presence.  
“$5000? For me? Can I turn myself in?” Arthur joked. It made you nervous, him acting so relaxed around these men that, essentially, want him dead. They told him how they wanted Dutch, and in exchange for him, offered Arthur freedom. He remained calm throughout the interaction. That was, until Milton told him how he killed Mac Callander. He threw his fishing pole to the ground and you saw his fists clench, raw anger rushing through his whole body. Jack flinched back, and you knelt down, holding him close to you. You watched as Agent Ross raised his gun to point it at Arthur.  
“You enjoy being a rich man’s toy, do ya?” You heard both sadness and pure rage in Arthur’s voice. You wished you could calm him a bit, prevent him from scaring Jack. But you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself.  
“I enjoy society, flaws and all. You people venerate savagery, and you will die, savagely! All of you!” You watched as Milton began to turn away, but not before taking a good look at you. “Good day, Mr Morgan. Miss L/N.” As he spoke your name, you began to tremble. The Pinkertons turned and left, and Arthur knelt back down to you, taking Jack into his arms as yours were shaking. Arthur reassured him they weren’t anything to worry about. A lie, of course. They were so close to camp, it was only a matter of time before they found you all. Arthur sent Jack to gather his things, and he approached you, grabbing both your arms and shaking your frozen form.  
“How do they know your name?” He sounded angry. You weren’t sure if it was at you, or them.  
“I…” you felt tears beginning to form as your breath got caught in your throat. “My husband, he hired them out to find people who robbed them.”  
“And now he’ll know exactly who you’re running with.” Arthur walked away towards his horse, where Jack was waiting for him. You pulled yourself over to your horse, and you all rode back to camp. Arthur and Jack were talking, but all you heard was noise. The hint of anger in Arthur’s voice. The hint of fear in Jack’s. Your ears were ringing. You knew Arthur was so full of rage and were worried that rage was aimed at you. Maybe it would be safer for the gang if you left. You knew that if Flynn found out you were alive and where you were hiding, he’d stop at nothing to ensure you were brought back to him.

When you arrived back to camp, Arthur voice had calmed considerably as he spoke to Abigail. You dismounted, and rushed back to your tent, avoiding Arthur. You sat on your cot, knees against your chest, rocking back and forth trying to calm yourself. You watched as Arthur stormed into Dutch’s tent, informing him of the ‘friends’ he’d just made. You couldn’t stop the tears spilling over as you saw him point over to you and threw his hands through his hair. He returned to his tent, as Dutch approached you.  
“There’s no need to worry about Pinkertons, little one.” You stayed silent. “They’ve been coming for me as long as I can remember, and they’ve never got me. I know you’re worried they’ll come looking for you too. But we won’t let them. You’re family.”  
“I don’t wanna go back there, Dutch.” You throat closed as you felt more tears coming.  
“I ain’t letting them anywhere near you, darlin’” Arthur appeared from behind Dutch. Rage subsided, he sat beside you, and placed a hand over yours. Dutch left you two alone, and Arthur held you for a while. He tried to distract you and reminded you how awful he still was at fishing, and exaggerated how impressed Jack was when you caught a fish. You chuckled at him, as the fear you felt, like a hand wrapped around your throat, eased off a little.  
“So, what were you and Jack talking about earlier?”  
“Oh, that? Nothing much. Just making sure I keep my promises is all.” Arthur stood up from the cot, acting a little sheepish, “I..I…I’ll get us some food.” As he walked away, you smiled to yourself and shook your head, clutching the ring hung from your neck. You knew exactly what promise Jack was pestering him about.

_Me and Y/N took Jack fishing. He found it about as god damn boring as I do, but Y/N seemed to enjoy it. Showed us both up. Looking at the way she is with Jack, it warms my heart. She’d make such a remarkable mother someday. Jack kept asking me about my promise, meddling little thing. Oh, I intend to keep it. Bought a ring years ago. Just gotta wait for the right time, is all. Relaxing trip until 2 Pinkerton bastards showed up. I wish Jack hadn’t been there. They killed Mac. And they recognised Y/N, too. Can’t help but feel protective of her, and of everyone in camp. Dutch thinks we should stay put but we’ve got to move soon._  
_I aint letting those bastards get anywhere close to her._


	8. To You Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter today! Wanted to get an update out, and hope to update again in the next day or two! As always, thank you so much for your support of my "little story". I love reading each and every one of your comments.

Since your interaction with the Pinkertons, you couldn’t help the idea swimming around your head that maybe the people you loved would be safer without your presence. Dutch made sense. They’ve been looking for him for years and they’re yet to catch him. But you weren’t Dutch. You weren’t sure how many people in that camp would truly fight for you.

Your nights were riddled with nightmares. Actually, just one nightmare, over and over. Pinkertons took Jack. It was solely for Flynn to get to you, so you were responsible. Abigail, your closest friend in camp, wanted you dead. Dutch and Hosea turned you away. Even Arthur walked away from you, which broke your heart. The worst part of the nightmare? When you finally reach Jack, instead of letting him go... Flynn kills him. Right in front of your eyes. You feel the pain of loss and regret, heart pounding, and then bolt upright awake in a cold sweat. Arthur would have to soothe you back to sleep most nights, wiping away your tears and calming your sobs.

On this morning, however, when you awoke from the dream for the third time that night, Arthur wasn’t beside you. You stepped up out of bed, got dressed with shaky hands, and splashed water over your face, trying to calm yourself.  
“Lookin' rough this morning, sweetheart.”  
“Call me that again and I'll break your face, Micah.” You snapped, turning around to glare right into Micah’s eyes. You were much shorter than him, but you’ve been told how your stare could make the devil himself shrivel up in fear. He backed off straight away, fear in his eyes, but still sporting a wry grin. You really hated that prick.  
“Y/N!” Dutch called as he walked to you. “Are you busy today? I'd like you to ride with me.” You nodded in agreement and readied yourself to leave. Before you could, Jack ran up to you, a chain of flowers in hand. The boy had gotten pretty handy at making necklaces, and he hung a beautiful daisy chain around your neck. As he ran off, you began to tear up. Don’t. Don’t think about the nightmare. Composing yourself, you smiled at the necklace hung around your neck, and how it framed the other, the ring, that also hung there.

“I’m happy you and Arthur have found each other again.” Dutch smiled fondly. “I couldn’t stand seeing the man hurt all these years, knowing you’d be hurting too. I should never have let your pitiful excuse for a father take you away. I’m sorry.”  
“S'not your fault, Dutch. You weren’t to know.”  
“Maybe not, but I feel very protective of you. Like a daughter.”  
Your conversations mostly revolved around life at camp, being calm about the Pinkertons, and Arthur. Eventually, you asked a question that plagued your mind for years.  
“So, did Arthur ever... move on?”  
Dutch hesitated and sighed deeply. You understood his awkwardness, but you weren’t mad at the thought of Arthur with someone else. He was with you now. And you knew how devoted he was. “There was this one girl, Mary. No one much liked her. Very proper girl. Her father never approved of Arthur’s… lifestyle, so it could never have worked. When he ended things, he came to me. Told me he was desperate to forget about you, only to realise he never wanted to forget. I never much believe him, until you came back. In fact, he got a letter from Mary, shortly after you arrived. He burnt it. Said he wanted nothing to do with her. He had his happiness right here with him.” You stayed totally silent through Dutch’s monologue, letting him tell the whole story. It warmed your heart. Sure, it made you sad for Arthur, knowing he was in pain over losing you, because he deserved happiness. But like he said himself, now, he had it.  
“Dutch?”  
“What is it?”  
“I’m gonna marry that man someday.”  
Dutch just chuckled, mumbling “I know.”

After a while, you and Dutch stopped in Valentine. You headed to a saloon to grab a drink, Dutch slammed some coins down and slid a whiskey your way. It was nasty, but it brought back fond memories of him and Arthur taking you out drinking for the first time, and Hosea scalding them both for letting you get so drunk. After a few drinks, Dutch noticed the flowers hung around you, laughed, and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a bracelet Jack has given him earlier. You giggled. Dutch definitely didn’t seem the sort to indulge Jack, but you found it sweet he did.  
“Y/N, Dutch. Didn’t realise you’d be in Valentine. Saw your horses outside.” That sweet, soothing voice called from behind you. As he got closer, you put your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a short but loving kiss. You followed it up with a punch to the arm.  
“That’s for leaving without saying anything this morning.”  
Dutch chuckled and Arthur rolled his eyes. “Sorry, darlin’. Marston’s had me herding sheep all morning.”  
“Now that’s a sight I'd pay to see!” you giggled. Dutch turned to order another round, and Arthur lent in close to whisper privately.  
“Nightmares?” You nodded quickly. He pulled you into a warm embrace, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” You mumbled an “S'okay" into his neck, and he let you go, cradling you face with his hand, and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Dutch then turned to hand you both a drink.  
“Let's toast. To you two. No two people have ever loved quite like you.”

Arthur and Dutch drank their whiskey, and as yours reached your lips, you heard a yell from outside.  
“DUTCH VAN DER LINDE!”  
The glass slipped from your fingers and crashed onto the floor. You knew that voice. The voice that poisoned your memories. Haunted your dreams.

Flynn Jameson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise again for the shorter chapter, but it came to such a good, natural ending :D
> 
> CLIFFHANGER!!!


	9. The Valentine Massacre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't leave you guys hanging for too long! Hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Just to let you all know, there are a few things from the game I have elected to change. For instance, in the last chapter, Arthur burnt the letter from Mary, without even going to see her. In this story, Arthur never really loved Mary. I was also asked in the comments if Arthur's sickness will be included in this story. Aaaaaaaand.... no it won't. Mr Morgan is TB free! I can't do that to you guys, or myself!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy and thanks so much for all the comments! Keep them coming!

“Van der Linde! Get out here!”  
You listened to Flynn’s voice raise louder and louder, anger growing inside him. Dutch made his way to stand beside the window, but you remained frozen in place, unable to move a muscle. Arthur was shaking you, and grabbed your arm, pulling you over to the other side of the window, while he stood just behind you, peering out the door.  
“You don’t know me, but you have something of mine. My name is Flynn Jameson. And I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you.” As he spoke his name, you felt Arthur tense behind you, and his hand reached to hold yours. He squeezed a little too tight, and you could feel his anger, but he ran his thumb over the back of your hand reassuringly. To a normal couple, this would be a soothing motion, but you knew that, from Arthur, this meant more. This meant there was no way he was letting any harm come to you. As worried as you felt about your husband arriving looking for you, you let the contact from Arthur’s rough, calloused hand spread warmth and a feeling of protection through you. You, Arthur and Dutch were stood here, side by side. You would sure put up a fight.  
“I have something of yours too. Get out here, give me the girl. Before I kill this man.”  
“God damn Marston.” You heard Arthur mumble. Dutch began to stir, formulating a plan, but kept looking over at you with worry.  
“We ain’t letting him take you.” Dutch angrily stated. You looked out the window.  
“There’s a lot of men out there. Can’t let any of you get hurt.” You felt guilty for putting the people you loved in harm’s way. Dutch crossed the window and took your other hand.  
“No.” He firmly ordered you to stop thinking in such a way. You looked out at John, who looked more pissed off than worried about death.  
“So, what’s the plan?” Arthur asked Dutch, who rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.  
“Well, we need to do this carefully…” Dutch began to talk you both through a plan. No one had any idea how many men Flynn had brought. This could get messy very quickly.  
“Y/N! Get out here. Now. I…OWN…YOU.”

That was it. Your ears began ringing, your head became hazy, and all you could focus on was his men. You ripped your hand from Arthur’s, kicked the door open, and took out the man holding a gun to John’s head, along with three other men, in one fell swoop.  
“Or we could just do that.” Arthur said, half laughing, half worried. Dutch ran out and took cover across from you, as Arthur burst out, shooting men down with both pistols, and came to cover behind you as he reloaded. John ran straight to behind Dutch.  
“If you make it out of this alive, you’re going to regret this, Y/N.” You could hear yourself getting surrounded by men. Dutch nodded at you and Arthur, John pulled out his gun, and the four of you stood up and shot down as many men as you could, spreading out across Valentine. You had no idea how Flynn was throwing so many men at you, but you took them all down. You tried your best to get a good shot on Flynn, but he was being a coward, hiding behind a wall of hired guns.

You let your guard down for one second as you tried formulating a plan to get yourself to Flynn and finish him. That was a mistake. Three men rounded the corner you were taking cover behind and grabbed you. One held a knife, which you hit to the ground and knocked the man to the ground with one punch. The two remaining men began to beat you, and you fought back. Managing to hold them off long enough, you pulled out your own knife, and began screaming as you stabbed frantically at the pair, until both their bodies slumped to the floor.  
“Jesus, Y/N. You okay?” Turning instantly to point your knife at the voice, you saw Arthur’s face, and snapped out of your frenzy for a second. He glanced at the bodies around you, and before he could say anything, was shot. Your eyes widened, as you ran out to grab him and pull him behind cover. Your hands balling into fists and you looked at the wound on his arm. Sure, the bullet had just grazed him, but the blood trickling from the wound sent you back into that murderous frenzy. You darted from cover, raising both pistols, shooting down a man for every shot fired.  
“STOP.” The firing ceased as Flynn spoke out. “Y/N, just come with me. No one else needs to be hurt. But they will be.” You watched on as another carriage pulled up, and more men flooded out of them. Almost as intimidating as the Gatling gun on the back. You looked up to Flynn again, who had a gun pointed to a man knelt in front of him. You knew Arthur was behind you and could see John and Dutch in front. Who was this man Flynn was threatening?  
Jeremy.  
The man who freed you from Flynn and his family. You were frozen again, as Flynn spoke out again.  
“Jeremy ran from us shortly after you did. We finally caught him. And this way, you get to watch as he dies because of you.” He spat the words out. You watched a Jeremy tried to get up and was kicked back down again. His eyes locked with your terrified ones, as he gave you a small smile and a nod, accepting his fate. You mouthed the words “I’m sorry” right before the gun went off.

A blood curdling scream erupted from your mouth, as you ran and tackled the man between you and the carriage. Once he was dealt with, you shot the man on the Gatling gun. Taking matters into your own hands, you slaughtered every last man Flynn could throw at you with the gun, as they continued to pour onto the streets of Valentine. You watched as Flynn retreated on his horse, and you tried to shoot him down, failing. Anger ran through your blood, pushing you to kill his men. You could hear other gunshots taking down a few men, but you were responsible for the Valentine Massacre.

When the last of Flynn’s men fell, Arthur ran to you, pulling you from the carriage, and he looked into your eyes. For a moment, he looked frightened, but he just pulled you into an embrace and held you, stroking his hand up and down your back. He successfully calmed that blood lust inside you, and you returned the hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pulled back when Dutch and John approached you.  
“Damn, L/N.” John commented, looking at the bodies around them.  
“We need to leave. Now. Get back to camp and pack up. We’ve got to move before Pinkertons show.” Dutch ordered, as he ran to his horse. John followed him, but Arthur remained unmoved, holding you around your waist. You looked across to where Jeremy’s body lay and ripped your body away from Arthur’s arms. You knelt beside Jeremy and took his pistol. It was beautiful, a pearl grip with a blackened steel barrel, silver engravings. You always admired it. But you had to take it now. As wrong as it might have been, taking a gun from a dead man. There was someone who deserved a bullet from this pistol.  
“Y/N…?” Arthur slowly approached you, not wanting to spook you. You looked down at Jeremy’s pistol and stood, turning to Arthur.  
“Flynn Jameson… will die by my hand.”

_Last time I saw Y/N go this crazy with bloodlust was when I got myself shot and collapsed in camp, back when we was younger. Wish I could have done more to help her. She went insane. Seeing her watch Jeremy be murdered was heart breaking. That crazy look in her eyes, I’ll admit, scared me. It’s not who she truly is. Life has hardened her over time, and she has these two sides to her – loving, caring outlaw, and frantic, cold blooded killer. Maybe I should talk to her about it…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so maybe the reader has *tiny* anger issues when it comes to protecting those she loves! Will be updating again soon!


	10. Pretty Damn Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so overwhelmed by everyone's positive comments - they mean so much to me. As a huge thank you... I give you another Chapter! Hope you all enjoy. I hope to get another update or two before Christmas.

By the time you reached camp, after a very silent ride with Arthur, everyone was frantically packing up. Dutch instantly approached Arthur and asked him to ride out with Charles to scout ahead a place to hideout. He hadn’t stopped looking at you with worry since you left Valentine, and your silence didn’t help his worry. He slowly approached you, acting very hesitantly around you since your outburst, and pressed his lips to your forehead, asking you to pack up his things. You stood there, unmoved, as he left for his horse. You were feeling riddled with guilt and responsibility for what had happened, and the camp’s forced move, but it wasn’t fair to worry Arthur. You suddenly bolted after him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him into a passionate kiss. He responded quickly, and wrapped your hair around his fingers, tilting his head, deepening the kiss. Neither of you cared who was watching. He slowly pulled away, still looking at you warily, worry creasing his forehead.  
“I love you, Arthur.”  
“I love you more, darlin'"

Everyone had packed up the entire camp and headed out to where Charles and Arthur had found a suitable place to stay. And there was no denying – it was beautiful. The way the moonlight hit the lake set a gorgeously serene backdrop to an otherwise tense and stressful situation. Micah, being Micah, had taken to voicing his strong opinions on you. This move was your fault. You were pushed further towards civilisation because of you. Dutch was talking him down after an outburst around the campfire that had left you frozen in place, full of guilt, and Arthur pacing, full of rage. Emotions were running high, everyone was arguing, and you couldn’t take knowing you were the cause of it all. So you found yourself retreating from the campfire as Arthur had his back turned, and headed towards the lake. You sat on the bank, and rested you head back on a tree, staring out across the calm waters. Seemed like the only calm thing around here. You heard footsteps growing closer to you, and you didn’t need to turn around to know it was him, so you spoke out.  
“Rather beautiful here, ain’t it?”  
“I guess.” Arthur took a seat next to you, lent against the tree, and placed his head down to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda pales in comparison to you, though.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes as Arthur chuckled, his body shaking slightly against yours as his chest rumbled. “Wow, I can actually hear your eyes rolling.” You giggled. It was a good feeling. Being happy. You and Arthur sat there and just laughed for what seemed like forever. Over nothing in particular. You could hear the voices in camp raising. Everyone was arguing, and yet you and Arthur found a little calm moment to spend together.  
“Y/N, I wanted to talk about something. Back there in Valentine... It was like it wasn’t really you. Are you okay?”  
“I don’t know.” You were honest with him. You could see in his eyes it frightened him, but it frightened you too. Being able to lose control like that. “I just... when the people I care about are hurt, something comes over me. Like a switch I can’t turn off. This, almost a fog, clouds my mind and I can’t think rationally. I mean, after you getting shot, and Jeremy...” Arthur draped his arm over your shoulder and pulled your head against his chest, his other hand running through your hair. You listened to his heart beat, and it soothed you, calming your mind from all the guilt you were feeling. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just get this urge, this need, to make every last fucker pay for wanting to hurt someone close to me.”  
“I understand. I get that too. Sometimes...” one of Arthur's hands found yours and laced your fingers together, as if he was looking for some reassurance, “sometimes I catch myself feeling that way, and it’s like I’m watching someone else do those things. Like its not me. I can’t stop myself.”  
“What a pair we are, huh?”  
“At least we’re both crazy enough to put up with each other's crazy.”  
“Hmm,” you smiled in agreement, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re pretty damn perfect Arthur Morgan.”  
“I assure you, I ain’t. But you make me wanna be a better man. For you.”  
Those words warmed your heart. You forgot about the guilt. You forgot about all the yelling going on behind you. You just saw him. You lent up and tenderly kissed him, then returned your head to rest against his chest. You both sat there, gazing upon the lake for a while, until he stood up and outstretched his hand to you, pulling you up to stand with him.  
“Can’t stand all the arguing here, and I know you can’t neither. Come on.” He pulled you through camp. Noise all around, you blocked it out and focussed on the man with a tight grip on your hand. He led you over to his horse, and as you went to walk to yours, he yanked you back, bringing you into his arms. He tilted your head up to look deep into his eyes. “You're riding with me.” He climbed up onto his saddle and offered his hand, pulling you onto his horse to sit in front of him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, your back flush against his chest, practically sitting in his lap. As he went to grab the reigns, his hands stroked your thighs, lingering at the top, as he pressed a hot open-mouthed kiss to your neck.

You rode for about half an hour, and throughout Arthur kept kissing and biting your neck. You began to approach a river, and Arthur steered off to a clearing that overlooked the waterfall. He dismounted and lifted you down, firm hands around your waist, and a very lustful look in his eyes as he licked his lips. He set up a campfire and a large tent while you hitched his horse, and gazed down on the water below. So many feelings were coursing through your body that you had begun to feel overwhelmed. Until Arthur made it all go away. It that moment, all the guilt, pain, remorse and grief felt dulled, and was overcome with love, happiness, and, most recently, lust. You were in a secluded camp, miles away from anyone. That idea sent a shiver down your spine.  
“You okay, darlin'?” Arthur called from the camp behind you. You walked back to him, took his hands into yours, and smiled.  
“Finally, yes.” You welcomed the quiet and calm your little camp offered, as opposed to home.  
“Good.” And with that, Arthur grabbed a fistful of your hair, and claimed your lips with his. His tongue ran across your bottom lip, and in response you bit his. A moan escaped his mouth. He pushed your coat off your shoulders, and slid his own off. You unbuttoned his shirt and pushed his suspenders off. Pulling his shirt open, you ran your hands across his chest, wrapped your arms around his body, and raked your nails across his back. An growl erupted from his throat, as he picked you up, wrapping your thighs around his waist, hands gripping your thighs so tight you were sure he’d leave bruises. He took you into the tent and laid you down, removing his shirt. You reached to unbuckle his belt, as he began unbuttoning your shirt. He pulled off your shirt and captured your lips in a kiss again, his tongue dancing with yours. Suddenly, his mouth broke from yours and darted to your neck, biting down, leaving a mark. You returned the favour, and you both left marks all over each other’s neck and chest, claiming each other as your own. Arthur’s hunger continued as he removed your pants, and his own, leaving you both laying completely naked. He began to tease you, his fingers slowly felt around your entrance, feeling how wet you’d gotten. His mouth continued leaving marks on your neck, forcing moans from your lips.  
“Arthur, please. I need you.” He looked at you with a tortured look. He wanted to continue working on you, but your begging was making it very difficult. “Please. I want you. Just take me.” His eyes were darkened with lust, as his whole body froze, eyes locked with yours. “Please.”

Your begging pushed his willpower away, a loud growl busted from his chest, and he wrapped one hand around your throat, lips crashing into yours once more. You were thoroughly distracted, you didn’t notice him position himself perfectly above you, so his sudden thrust inside you took you by surprise. A loud cry of pleasure left your lips, and you hand instantly clasped over your mouth, trying to quiet yourself. Arthur lifted your hand away and pinned it above your head.  
“Don’t hold back. It’s just us.” He began moving inside of you, pulling more moans from you. “Let me hear you.” It almost felt like an order, and you knew how much he loved to hear you get vocal as he thrust into you. His mouth still hungrily searched your body, leaving marks in its wake. His pace began to quicken as the moans falling from your lips grew louder and more carefree. No one could hear you, so you intended to make sure Arthur knew how much pleasure you were in.  
“More.” You whispered.  
“What was that, darlin'?” he smirked as he slowed his thrusts.  
“I want more, Arthur, please.” You begged, biting your bottom lip, trying to look as innocent as you could with a man between your thighs.  
He grabbed your body and turned you over, laying your stomach to the ground. He pushed himself back into you again, with much more ease. You moaned deeply at the new angle he was entering from. Each thrust hit deeper than you ever imagined. You very quickly came undone in this position, your screams of pleasure filling the tent. His thrusting didn’t stop, drawing out your orgasm and you already felt another building. Arthur pressed his body against yours, holding his weight on his arms, but the friction between your bodies felt so good and intimate. He kissed you all over your neck and shoulders as his pounding became faster and more erratic. His face came down to rest next to yours as you could see his climax building. You grabbed his hair with your fist to look into his eyes as you felt yourself reaching your own climax again.  
“Fuck, Y/N" Arthur cried out, holding your gaze and his own release came. He moaned all the way through it, prolonging your orgasm again. Your walls continued to squeeze down on Arthur, and knowing you were still feeling your high, he pulled out of you, making you whimper only for a second as he pushed two fingers straight inside you. He was intentionally teasing you, so you began to grind your hips against his hand. You could already feel yourself building again. His pace quickened, and his thumb began rubbing against your clit. After mere seconds of his handiwork, you came undone for him again.  
And again.  
And again.  
“Arthur...” You felt so sensitive that any movement from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body, forcing more orgasms out of you. You weren’t sure how long this would go on for, and Arthur showed no sign of stopping. Your cries filled the tent, as you grabbed his hair, letting yourself go once more.  
And again.  
You could feel your eyes begin to close, and you struggled to keep them open. Arthur withdrew himself from inside you and kissed you passionately. You looked up to him to see him smiling.  
“So proud of yourself, aren’t you cowboy?”  
“Oh, incredibly so.” He smirked at you, causing you to giggle and slap his chest. He rolled over from above you to lay by your side. He poked at a few of the marks across your chest and you hissed. “I’m sorry.” A small moan left your lips.  
“Don’t be.” You stared into his darkened eyes, sure that yours were just as lust filled. You watched Arthur begin to stir next to you, almost looking a little nervous. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he looked at you, eyes full of love and adoration, as well as lust, his hands shaking a little. He sat up to grab something in his pocket.  
“This isn’t how I wanted to do his. You know, right after sex. But after a day like today... I was terrified of losing you. I can’t stand the idea of breaking a promise to you.” He pulled out a small black box, and inside was the most beautiful, delicate ring. A small diamond sat on a thin gold band. “I know you’re married. And I ain't a good man. But I’ve held onto this ring long enough. Y/N L/N, I love you. I’ve loved you in some way from the moment we met. Will you be mine, and let me be yours, for the rest of our lives?”  
“Course I will, Arthur.” You could barely contain your excitement as tears ran down your face. Your hand shook as he placed the ring upon your finger. You were beaming, and looked up to see his face mirroring yours. Your heart felt like it was going to burst. You loved this man with everything you had. He took you into his arms and held you. A small shiver spread through your body, as the pair of you sat there, still naked. He grabbed you around your waist, pulled your back to his chest, and he placed a blanket over the two of you. You held out your hand in front of you, admiring the ring.  
“It's perfect.” You stated, wiggling your fingers so the diamond shone in the moonlight. Arthur buried his face in your neck to whisper in your ear.  
“You’re perfect.”


	11. Heads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Bit of a shorter chapter today. Had some inspiration when I watched one of my favourite films, and could totally imagine it in the Van der Linde camp! I’d be amazed if anyone gets the reference, it’s quite an obscure film. Anyway – a bit of a more relaxing chapter after all the tension going on!

You and Arthur awoke while the sun was high in the sky. Both feeling lazy all morning, you were not motivated to get up and head home. Especially since tensions in camp were still sure to be high. You both slowly got up and dressed, sharing sleepy kisses and long hugs. Every time you looked down at that ring on your finger, you giggled, and remembered the night before. You wandered across to the cliff edge, staring down on the waterfall below.  
“You want to head back, darlin’?” You felt warm arms wrap around your waist, and a soft kiss pressed to your head.  
“Soon. It’s oddly peaceful out here. I’m…” you fiddled with your ring, “I’m nervous about going back. What if they all hate me? What will they say about us?”  
“No one blames you. Well, maybe Micah, but he’s an ass. And as for us,” Arthur took your hand in his and ran a finger over the ring, “they’ll be happy. I promise. Besides, it’ll be a good excuse to get drunk!”

You took a slow ride back to your new camp, Clemens point. You followed the winding river that flowed from the waterfall, rode across gorgeous rolling hills, and along the side of the lake as it led back to camp. Suddenly, that ring was starting to feel very heavy, as you rode closer and closer to the yelling. So, things were still bad here. As you dismounted, Arthur took your shaking hands in his.  
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We ain’t gotta tell them right away. Take it off if you want.”  
“No. I’m never taking this off, Mr Morgan.” A wide smile spread across your face. “Guess we’ll just see if they notice, tell them when the time is right.”  
 _“Heads.”_  
“Sounds great, Mrs Morgan.” He lent in to whisper that last part in your ear, full of lust and desire, sending a shiver down your spine. You giggled.  
“Not yet.” You shared a kiss, and everyone’s arguing seemed to melt away.  
 _“Heads.”_  
Arthur took your hand and led you towards the campfire, telling you to wait while he got you both some food.  
 _“Heads.”_  
You looked around you, and saw Jack sat next to the fire, flipping a coin over and over.  
 _“Heads.”_  
He was focussed on flipping that coin, getting the same outcome time and time again. And it puzzled you.  
 _“Heads.”_  
“What you up to there, Jack?” You felt awful for the poor boy. Everyone around him was arguing, his parents included.   
“Just flipping this coin. Heads. It’s really weird. Heads. I keep getting…”  
“Heads?” You giggled. “Let me see that coin.” He flipped it to you, and you caught it between two fingers, checking both sides, determining if it was weighted. It seemed normal. You threw it back and took out a coin from your satchel. You flipped it. Heads.  
“Want to make a bet? Heads I win?” Jack asked, excited that you found this as puzzling as he did. You flipped the coin and sighed.  
“Heads.” You threw the coin to Jack. Arthur had joined your side, listening to the conversation, and pulled out a coin of his own. He flipped it. Heads. And another. Heads. He grumbled to himself, threw the coins to Jack, and started eating his stew.

After a while, almost the entire camp had gathered around Jack. Each person would bet Jack they would get tails. And everyone lost. Jack had gathered quite a small fortune from the afternoon, and as the sun went down, everyone was sat around the campfire, laughing away, confused as hell. But the tensions and arguments had gone. John had his arm around Abigail, Grimshaw and Pearson had stopped being at each other’s throats, Uncle no longer looked like he wished everyone around him would drop dead. Micah was still sulking, but that was probably due to the fact he’d lost a good few dollars to Jack.  
“Heads.”  
“It just… it defies the laws of probability.” Dutch was fascinated by the whole ordeal. Jack looked a little puzzled at the phrase and looked to you to explain it.  
“It’s a fairly simple thing. Just sounds fancy. If six monkeys…” You wracked your brain for an analogy that would make sense to the small boy, “the laws of probability dictate that if you threw six monkeys up in the air high enough, they would land on their tails, just about as often as they would land on their…”  
“Heads.” Arthur grunted, throwing another coin to the pile. You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You stood, taking another coin from your satchel.  
“I feel the spell about to be broken!” you flipped the coin, very high up in the air this time. Everyone watched the coin as it spun through the air and began to fall back to your hand. You covered the coin, and everyone’s eyes looked on at you, expectantly. You took your hand away.  
“Well, it was an even chance.” You threw the coin onto the pile beside Jack, who gasped and pointed at you. Abigail clapped her hand across her mouth in shock. Hosea elbowed Dutch who looked up at you, and the proudest look spread across his face.  
“Finally!” Dutch yelled, as he stood to walk to you. “Arthur finally had the guts to ask you to be his.” He gave you a small hug and walked over to where Arthur had moved behind you, placing his arm on his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, son. You’re a lucky man.”  
All the women of the camp flooded over to gaze at the ring. You felt like a circus attraction. But you didn’t care. Your eyes were locked with Arthur’s as you both smiled at each other with love and adoration.  
“I know, Dutch. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, the whole coin flipping ordeal was from a film called Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. It's based off fo 2 minor characters in the play Hamlet, and essentially tells the story of Hamlet from the wings. It's brilliant, and full of cool references to scientific practices. Fully recommend it to anyone!


	12. Kaleidoscope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all having a happy holidays! I swear I'm getting more sick but decided to write this chapter anyway! Thanks for the positive response to "Ever Since We Met (Second Chances)", looking forward to adding to that again soon. Feel free to leave comment with prompts or scenarios you would like to see!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Rhodes was... different to Valentine. The law was powerful here, run by a family known as the Grays. Dutch had become friendly with them, but the thought of being close to the law scared you. It would easy for them to recognise any of you. As if that fear wasn’t enough, Dutch was also playing their rival family, the Braithwaites, in the hopes of finding each families hidden gold. A horrible plan really, destined to bring ruin on the gang. But who were you to doubt Dutch. Surely the man knew what he was doing. You trusted him, but you knew Arthur shared the same opinion. Dutch was being blinded by greed to see how horribly this could go with a single slip up. You’d just have to be sure there were none.

Arthur had headed out with Dutch and Bill, so you took the opportunity to see if anyone needed anything from town. Keeping busy was a priority for you, as quiet moments led to you wondering if the gang would be safer if you left. Jack caught your eye, as he solemnly sat by the lake, holding something in his hands. As you approached him, you heard a gentle sob escape him.  
“Jack, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”  
“It...it...” Jack sniffed as he stammered between words, holding out the broken remains of his toy. You recognised it as one of the horses Hosea had whittled for him. Now the beautiful replica of The Count had been smashed into pieces, “I woke up and it was on the floor, broken.”  
“Then maybe you should be more careful were you leave your shit, kid.” Micah laughed as he passed you two, and you glared daggers at him. Clearly he was responsible, and he looked so proud of himself, making a little boy cry. You placed you hand on Jack’s shoulder.  
“Hey, it’s okay. Sometimes, things break. But we can do something else with this.” You comforted the boy, and you pulled a few bits of food from your satchel. Handing him a couple of biscuits to cheer him up, you fashioned a kaleidoscope from a tin can and various other food packaging. You took the broken pieces from Jack, and added some flowers from around you, and finally a few pieces of broken metal food containers. You handed it back to Jack.  
“Here. Look through that end and hold it up to the light.” He pointed the kaleidoscope across the lake where the sun reflected on the water. Spinning the can around, he gasped with childish wonder. “The idea of a kaleidoscope is that you can fill it with broken bits and pieces, and yet somehow, when you look through it, you still see something beautiful.” Jack marvelled at the toy in his hands. After a few minutes, he put it down and ran into your arms.  
“Thank you, Auntie Y/N. Look! Mama!” Jack scurried off the Abigail. You heard a deep chuckle from behind you, and a pat to your shoulder.  
“Thanks Y/N.” John sat beside you, gave you a smile, and turned to look across the lake. He picked up a couple of stones and threw them into the water. “I didn’t know how to cheer him up. I’m terrible at this.” He continued throwing stones, and you joined him.  
“You’re not terrible. But you gotta spend more time with the boy. I understand. Your first loyalty is to Dutch. But family should be your priority.”  
“I know.”  
“He’s a sweet kid.” John smiled at your sentiment, and gazed over to where Abigail stood with his son, laughing with him. “You just gotta get more involved with them. Both of them.”  
“Thanks, Y/N.” John looked down and grabbed another handful of stones, continuing to launch them into the water with a satisfying plop.

“Marston, you’ve got your own girl, stop flirting with mine.” Arthur’s teasing voice came from beside you and he sat himself down the other side of you. He grabbed himself some stones, and threw one that hit John’s boot. John, still chuckling from Arthur’s remark, looked up, and launched one back. You threw your hands up to both of them.  
“Boys, as much as I love the child like fighting here, I’m sat in the firing line.”  
“I should get on anyway. Thank you again, he looks real happy.” John patted your shoulder again and he stood and made his way over to his family. Looking over at them made you heart ache. You wanted that with Arthur, someday. But this life was a tough environment to raise a child in, and with Flynn chasing you down...

Arthur pulled you from your thoughts by taking your hand in his and placing a kiss upon it. You turned and noticed something glinting in the sunlight on his jacket.  
“Well look at you, Deputy Morgan!”  
“Don’t.” He rolled his eyes as you giggled. “Working with a god damn lawman. It’s crazy! And you’ll never guess what else.”  
“What is it, Sheriff?” You laughed as he kicked your boot with his.  
“I spent my afternoon transporting love letters. Some young love separated by this family feud.”  
“Well, aren’t you a romantic.” You kissed him softly, and pulled back to smile at him. As you were about to speak again, you were distracted by a yelling across camp. Karen was walking away, disgruntled, and as you lent back to peer around Arthur, you saw Micah smirking away, feet up on another chair, swigging from a bottle of whiskey.  
“’Scuse me a minute, Arthur.”  
You stormed across camp towards Micah, and kicked the chair out from under his feet. His body jolted forward, causing whiskey to splash all over his face. He spluttered a little, before standing up and slamming the bottle down.  
“What the fuck, missy?”  
“What the fuck? How about what the fuck are you doing torturing that poor boy?”  
“Kid needs toughening up.”  
“He’s just a kid, Micah.” You heard Arthur approaching, keeping a slight distance from you.  
“Control your woman, Morgan!”  
“I think she can handle herself just fine.” Arthur taunted as he took a seat on the nearby chair.  
“Apologise to Jack.” You ordered. Micah knew just how intimidating you could be, but today he seemed intent on pushing you to your limit.  
“Learn your place, bitch.” He barely got the words out, and as you heard Arthur stand abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor, you punched Micah right in the nose, knocking him back a little. He stood finally, and turned around to swing at you, until his arms were pulled back by Charles, who had stepped closer when you began to raise your voice. Dutch approached from behind you.  
“Enough, you two. We can’t be falling apart. Not right now.”

Arthur chuckled to himself, slumped his arm over your shoulders, and led you back to your shared tent.  
“I'd have stopped you, but he deserved that.” You softly giggled at Arthur. You peered over at the Marstons. Jack was none the wiser to the confrontation, but John gave you a wide smile, and Abigail mouthed “Thank you". You reached your tent and sat on the cot beside Arthur.  
“So,” Arthur began, as he stood again to grab a bottle of whiskey nearby and a couple of glasses, talking as he poured you both a glass, “If you had to choose between stealing horses, or torching a tobacco field...”  
“Torching a tobacco field. Everytime.”  
“Figured you say that.” He handed you the glass and rolled his eyes. “Fine, you and Sean are burning the Gray’s fields tomorrow for the Braithwaites, while Marston and I steal some of the Braithwaite’s horses for the Grays.” He downed his whiskey, shaking his head.  
“What a mess.”  
“Yeah. Just... be careful, okay?” Arthur looked at you with such sincerity, your hand melted into his as he took it. He looked down at the ring upon your finger. “Can’t have my future Mrs Morgan getting hurt, can we?” You felt heat flood to your cheeks. That name did have a nice ring to it.  
“Of course not... Deputy.” The tent was filled with your screams and giggles as Arthur tickled you relentlessly.

_Tomorrow, things get dangerous. I hope Y/N can handle herself. I know she can. Just don’t like how risky this is getting. With that ring on her finger, I feel so much more protective of her, if that was possible._  
_Glad to see Micah get his ass handed to him. He should know better by now not to piss off Y/N. Seeing her all defensive of Jack has me thinking again about how great a mother she’d be. Maybe one day, we can get out of this life. Give things a go alone. Start a family. If we ever get through this family feud..._


	13. Gasoline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support on this fic! Sorry I haven't been updating so much recently, still quite sick. I'll get them out as soon as I can. Give me another week and I won't be around family anymore and will be back to updating every 1 or 2 days. Hope you're all well, enjoy this chapter, and as always, comment away! <3

You awoke slowly, the frosty air chilling you, and causing you to snuggle back into the warmth coming from behind you. The arm draped lazily over your hips pulled you tighter until your bodies were perfectly flush against each other.  
“Can’t we just stay like this all day?” your gentle, sleepy voice softly awoke Arthur.  
“Unless you wanna face Grimshaw and Dutch. Besides,” he placed a soft kiss on your neck, “today's gonna be fun.” You heard him chuckle as you peppered your neck and shoulder with kisses, causing giggles to erupt from you, until he silenced them by crashing his lips against yours. Eventually you both arose from bed, slowly, groggily, getting ready for the day, as you did every morning. Pausing occasionally to place kisses upon each other. Arthur stepping out to get you both coffee. It was a routine you’d fallen into and you honestly couldn’t imagine anything different. You both sat overlooking the lake, coffee in hand, spending time in each other’s company before you headed out for the day. After some time of silence, you looked across to Arthur frowning into his cup.  
“What is it, Arthur?”  
“I just... got a bad feeling. ‘Bout all of this. It don’t feel right, what Dutch is doing. Playing both sides. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”  
“I always am. Promise me.” You asked, just as worried as him, cupping his face in your hand.  
“I always am.” He chuckled as he lent into your hand, closing his eyes for a second. A few more minutes passed, and most of the camp had awoken and started stirring. You and Arthur headed across to the horses, calling Sean and John over. Arthur’s arm had snaked around your waist as you walked across, and his grip tightened as you reached the horses, as if he didn’t want you to let you go.  
“Well, Arthur, it’s about bloody time you let me spend some time with this woman o' yours. Maybe I can talk her put of marrying you, you grumpy sod!” Sean laughed. Arthur's conflicted expression finally melted into one of happiness as he pulled you in for a kiss, squeezing your ass as you parted.   
“Sure. Good luck with that, Sean!” Arthur joked as he walked to his horse. John laughed in the background.  
“Eh, don’t underestimate my charm. You know, my da used to say...”  
“Nope. No.”  
“Not the da.”  
“Not this again...” You, Arthur and John all chimed in, unwilling to hear Sean babble on about his father. Yet again.  
“Oh, screw the lot of ya! Come on Y/N, let’s give ‘em ‘ell!” Sean started to ride away, and, after giving Arthur another smile, you followed suit.

You’d never spent much time with Sean. He was so full of life. Bright, enthusiastic. He made you smile, even when you didn’t feel like smiling. He’d always crack a joke in camp, piss off one of the older gentlemen to get a laugh from you. He reminded you of your brother. Needless to say, however, that while you enjoyed his company, the lad didn’t know when to shut up. You’d stopped at the Braithwaite Manor, meeting Hosea there, and the older woman, Catherine, who you assumed to be in charge, informed you of what she expected to be done. And so you rode off. Listening to Sean go on and on about his childhood. Finally, the man seemed to quiet down once you approached the Gray’s estate. You snuck into a shed, and, after knocking out the man napping inside, grabbed two gasoline cans while Sean hid the body. You handed one to Sean, and he pointed you towards the fields on the left, while he took the right. As you walked away, he grabbed your wrist, and you turned to him with a worried look upon your face.  
“So, there’s no chance for us then, eh?” he gave you a laugh and a wink, as he released your arm and headed for the exit.  
“You’re insufferable, Sean.” You called after him, sharing a laugh with him. And then you set out to work.

The tobacco plants stood tall. High enough to conceal you when sneaking around in them. Your only obstacles were the armed guards patrolling the fields. As you stalked through the tobacco plants, you doused them in gasoline, your mind wandering to where your knife hung on your belt, ready to grab it for a quick and silent kill. You’d made good ground around the fields, dousing them quickly. There was one left, but a large group of guards were walking along the path in front of you. You slowly stalked forward, looking for a way around them. You headed parallel to them, hoping to cut across behind them before they turned, when your ankle gave way beneath you, causing a small yelp to escape your mouth before you stopped it. Your heart paused, as searing pain ran up and down your foot. You knew it wasn’t anything serious, as the pain subsided quickly, but you crouched there, frozen in fear.  
“Hang on a minute, think I heard something.”  
One of the guards started to walk towards were you crouched, leaving the other two behind him. You felt yourself begin to panic. If you were caught right now there was no talking yourself out of it. A distraction. That’s what you needed. You rummaged in your satchel as silently as you could and pulled out an apple. You turned slightly, desperate to make as little noise as possible, and threw the apple further into the field, causing the guard to turn sharply as it hit the ground. The other two guards turned to look. You held your breath, waiting, and when the man a few feet in front of you started to run towards the noise, you bolted for the other field. Safe, for now.

After finishing off dousing the fields, you headed back for the shed, and waited for Sean. He waltzed in, and handed you a few bottles of gin, which you took from him, and stuffed cloths inside. As you were about to part again, Sean turned to talk to you, and you saw a guard walk into the shed. He saw the two of you, and began to raise his gun to Sean’s head. You yelled for him to get down and in an instant threw a knife at the man’s throat, taking him out before he could alert any others. You needed to start the fires before they could know you were here.  
“Wow. That was bloody brilliant.” Sean began to stand again after throwing his body to the ground to avoid your knife. “Remind me never to get on your bad side!” Even you were a little amazed at how quickly you reacted.  
“Right, you start some fires your side, I’ll start mine, then head for this shed again. Well shoot our way out together.” Sean listened and gave you a nod, then headed out the door. At this point, you weren’t particularly careful, and you launched your fire bottles into the tobacco fields. They caught so quickly, thanks to the gasoline you’d doused them with. Once they were all lit up, and you heard the gunshots being fired your way, you headed to Sean who was taking cover the other side of the shed. You both nodded at each other, and ran straight to the horses, shooting a few guards down on the way. There was no need to kill too many, you’d done what you were sent to do.

You heard a few men follow you on horseback, and you quickly dispatched of them before they could hurt you or Sean. Sean seemed oblivious to the danger behind you both, retelling yet another story. You had to admit, you enjoyed his company. He didn’t take things too seriously, like most other people did.   
“I bet that man o' yours is worried about ya. We should get back fast.”   
“Are you suggesting a race, Mr Maguire?”  
“Well, if you insist!” and with that, Sean pulled away, getting an early lead before you were even aware. You laughed, and encouraged your horse to pick up the pace, praising her the whole way with “atta girl" and gentle encouragement. You were neck and neck with Sean most the way, but as the turning into the trees leading to camp came into view, you pushed your horse further, and left Sean way behind. The sound of rushing hooves gathered the attention of the camp, and most were looking your way as you burst through the treeline, failing to contain a wide smile. Sean followed a few seconds later, a defeated and worn out look gracing his face.  
“Bloody hell. Is there anything your woman can’t do, Arthur?” Sean dismissed all the worried faces, informing them of the race. Arthur’s, you noticed, looked the most worried of them all.  
“Maybe you shouldn’t have challenged me then, Maguire.” You punched his shoulder, and he feigned being hurt. You both laughed, and he started to walk away, as Arthur approached, before yelling across the camp yet another taunt.  
“If ol’ Arthur there stops satisfying you, you know where I am!”   
You and Arthur both rolled your eyes at Sean’s incessant joking and insanely high self confidence, and shared a kiss.  
“Everything went well, then?” Arthur asked, as he looked you over, trying to find any obvious wounds.  
“All according to plan.” Arthur let out a sigh of relief when the words left your lips, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  
“Guess I was worried about nothin',” Arthur wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked over to the campfire. You needed a rest after today and it looked like Arthur did too, “although I was a little worried about Sean here talking you to death.” He jested as you reached a log to sit upon, across from Sean and Karen.  
“You know, Arthur, sarcasm is not the most attractive quality. My da used to say...” You threw a cup at him before he could continue, and he jokingly pouted your way. Arthur chuckled beside you, and you relaxed into him, rested your head on his shoulders, and gazed into the fire before you. With his hands in your hair, you shut your eyes, and his soft singing didn’t take long to lull you to sleep.


	14. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today. Might possibly update again later, as I have no New Years Eve plans besides playing RDR2! Anyway, just setting things up for the next chapter, as you may be able to tell it's going to be an emotional one.
> 
> Happy New Year everyone! Thanks for making the back end of this year so memorable with your kind words. Can't wait to continue with this in the new year! Enjoy chapter 14!
> 
> Again, if you're into pretty screenshots of the world of Red Dead Redemption 2, and our favourite outlaw, check out my Instagram @red.dead.photography !

Everything in camp seemed… calm. Things were going well. The Gray and Braithwaite families both showed trust towards your family of your own, unaware of the betrayal you were pulling off. Eventually they’ll figure things out, but by then, you’ll be long gone and, with any luck, be running away with their money. You were all gathered around the campfire for breakfast. It wasn’t often you’d all spend time together until the evening, when the alcohol was flowing, but camp morale was high, and the food was plentiful. Sean was talking incessantly, Pearson was telling stories of his time in the navy, Dutch and Hosea were retelling tales of yours and Arthur’s youth, Abigail was sat upon John’s lap, getting along for once, and Jack was sat on the floor in front of you and Arthur. He was enthralled in Hosea’s current story about Arthur’s fishing skills, or lack thereof.  
“We toasted to Arthur’s fishing, amazed at his haul, and had quite the meal that night. And then, three days later, when Arthur, Y/N and I headed into town, we walked down the high street, passing a fishmonger. He called out to Arthur and asked how he liked the bass he bought!”  
The whole camp laughed, while Arthur shook his head at Hosea.  
“Come on Hosea, that was years ago. Let it go!”  
“If it makes you feel any better, I never doubted you bought the fish in the first place.” You added, elbowing Arthur in the side. Jack laughed, and Arthur turned to face you, sticking his tongue out. You returned the gesture, raising another laugh from camp. Micah stood and slapped Bill on the shoulder, and he rose, addressing camp.  
“Well, better be off. Sean, you coming along? And… Arthur?”  
“What’s the plan?” Arthur asked, setting his plate aside.  
“Some job for the Grays. They need some sort of security” Micah stated, as he loaded his revolvers.  
“Well, if it’s protection yous wanting, I reckon we should bring Y/N too. Can never be to careful, eh?” Sean jumped up, excited for the opportunity. You swear you’d never seen the man not smiling, and it was oddly infectious. You agreed to join them. You were sceptical of Micah and Bill’s shaky lead, but it seemed innocent enough, and perfectly legal. It certainly wouldn’t rouse suspicion with the Gray family. You’d been doing odd jobs for the Sheriff. Even earned your own little deputy badge. It made you laugh every time you saw it. Someone who broke the law as often as you… working for the law. It was comical.

When you arrived at Rhodes, the town seemed oddly dead. A few men were stood in the alcoves of shops, and you could swear that every single one of them was staring at you. They were all silent, perhaps a few mutters here and there. You were incredibly aware of every set of eyes on you, feeling them burning into your skull. Quiet was the only way to describe the town. Quiet. And dead. Even the birds had stopping singing, and the wind had died to the gentlest of breezes.  
“What kind of security they needing, anyway?” Arthur asked, walking beside you. Micah turned to address him, still steadily walking down the street.  
“We’re about to go find out. Dutch said we was to keep dealing with them until we find out about this gold.”  
“Can we trust them?” Sean questioned, as a couple of men walked past, heavily armed for citizens of Rhodes.  
“Can we trust anyone?” You fired back in response, feeling a little uneasy about the unusual quietness of the town. They continued discussing matters, Arthur and Sean about as unsure as you were. Micah and Bill seemed convinced the Grays were unaware of your involvement in burning their fields. Your eyes continued to search around you, scanning every man in the area. Every single one of them was carrying at least a couple of firearms. Not that this was unusual, but their staring was. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the group of you making your way down the street.   
“We’re stuck in the middle of some ancient feud, but instead of playing both sides, we’re being used by both of them.” Arthur stated. His eyes locked with yours, and he could see the worry on your face. He grabbed your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. As you approached the saloon at the end of the street, you noticed there was no one around. Literally no one.  
“Hey, hold up. This don’t feel right.” You stopped dead, hand hovering over Jeremy’s revolver hung at your gun belt. Arthur assumed the same sort of stance, while Micah and Bill tried to play it off as nothing. Sean turned to talk to you all, showing similar signs of unease.  
“Now it don’t feel right? I could’a told you that-“

Blood. Blood everywhere. You were screaming his name, but he wasn’t answering. Again and again. Why wasn’t he answering? The more you yelled, the more the blood poured out of his neck. Blood. Everywhere. You were being dragged away, and could see guns being fired, but you couldn’t hear a thing. Nothing but his name.  
“SEAN!” you screamed. Arthur pulled you behind a set of barrels. Trying to bring you back to reality as bullets flew past you both.  
“Y/N, darlin’, I need you to focus. We don’t wanna lose someone else.” Arthur yelled at you, his voice faltering slightly. The noise all came at once, like thunder. Bullets ricocheting all around. Shots fired, theirs and yours. Your eyes were still focussed on Sean, laying there in the middle of the street. Blood. Everywhere. It shouldn’t be his blood seeping through the dusty street.  
“Y/N? Please. We need you.” A gentle voice came from beside you. He suddenly grabbed you and kissed you, full of passion and sorrow and reassurance. It brought you back, and you grabbed your repeater.  
It shouldn’t be his blood. Everywhere.  
It should be theirs.


	15. They Will Pay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 4000 hits and 200 Kudos! I'm totally gobsmacked at this. Thank you to each and every one of you inspiring me to carry on! I'm so glad you're still with me, we've still got a journey ahead of us!
> 
> Lots of rage and emotions. Fair warning about descriptions of violence (I tried not to be too graphic).
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! I'm slowly on the mend, and will be heading back to uni soon, so expect more frequent updates! (Hopefully!) Also, if anyone has any idea/requests for my other work, go ahead and leave a comment.
> 
> As ever, leave comments. I love getting the chance to talk to you guys!

Gunshots and blood and screaming and shouting. There was so much going on. And you tried your best to hold onto yourself. To stop yourself unleashing that primal rage inside of you. You saw the way Arthur looked at you whenever it happens. With love, but also with fear, hidden deep behind those ocean blue eyes. So you pushed those thought of Sean, laying there, lifeless on the streets of a town you’d now come to hate, from your head. Right now, people needed you. Micah had retreated into a store the other side of the street that was currently surrounded by Grays and their hired guns. Bill was no where to be seen. And you found yourself in the gunsmith opposite Arthur. Men filling the streets. Some firing upon you, some firing elsewhere, some laying as lifeless as Sean. No. Don’t think about him. _Keep a hold on yourself._

Arthur gave you a nod, and you both emerged from the door, side by side, shooting down all those that opposed you. You cleared a path for Micah, who bolted across to you both. He thanked you – something that took you by surprise. So the man was capable of gratitude. He took up position at a window while you and Arthur continued shooting from behind crates outside the store. There seemed to be a respite in the shooting, and Arthur ran across to take cover beside you.  
“You okay?” He grabbed your face with his shaking hands, adrenaline and rage coursing through him. He was looking deep into your eyes, searching for any signs of, well, that killer’s fog that always seemed to take you in these situations. You searched his in return, finding no fear, just worry and pain, and you found yourself starting to drown in his eyes until a bullet whizzed past your head.  
“I’m fine. I…” You looked down for a second, instantly missing the warm feeling his gaze spread through you, and returned to his adoring eyes, “I’m okay.” Your eyes scanned the streets and fell upon Sean’s corpse again. Rage filled your body and your hands gripped your gun a little tighter, preparing to fire upon anyone in your view. _No. You can handle this. Arthur is counting on you._

“Where the fuck is Bill?” Micah yelled, as he took cover where Arthur stood before. “And where have they all gone?” It was true, all firing seemed to have ceased, but you knew they were still here. Of course, they were. You knew that coward Sheriff Gray was still here. You saw him hiding away with his few remaining men.  
“I think I know exactly where they’re hiding.” Your voice shook a little with the anger and pain you were desperately suppressing. The Sheriff’s station. Of course.

The three of you walked down the street together, careful to step between the bodies littered across Rhodes. This was just supposed to be a short walk in a pretty town. Not a goddamn bloodbath. The streets ran red with the Gray’s blood. And his blood. _Don’t think about him. Not yet._  
“Come on out Sheriff!” Arthur yelled, as you all approached the building he was cowering in. Pathetic. The least he could do is be a man and finish what he started.  
“You don’t think we don’t know what you’ve been doing? This is the Gray’s town!” a muffled, somewhat frightened voice called out. Sheriff Gray was quaking in his boots, and it brought a smile to your face.  
“The only Grays I see left around here,” You raised your arms and took a step forward, motioning to all his fallen comrades strewed around the town, “is you. Now get out here!”  
“You want us to come out? We’ll come out!” 

The door burst open, and you were greeted with a somewhat friendly face, as 3 more hostile ones poured out behind him.  
“Oh… Bill!” Arthur cursed, as the cowardly sheriff held a gun to Bill’s head. His other 2 men held guns pointed at you.  
“Put your guns down!” the sheriff yelled. You scoffed, as did Micah.  
“You know we can’t do that. You put the gun down, Sheriff.”  
“You want me to blow his brains out? Do ya?” You could still hear the underlying fear in his voice. His hand shook as he held Bill at gun point.  
“Either way,” you gave Arthur and Micah a knowing look, to which they both nodded slightly, “You’re a dead man. Gentlemen?”  
3 shots. 3 simultaneous shots and all 3 men hit the ground together. It brought a satisfying smile to your face, having killed that insufferable Sheriff. Bill made his way down the steps towards you all, thanking you. As you began to walk away from the building, a primal scream came from behind you, as a man stepped out holding a shotgun, ready to fire at you all. Before any of you, or he, had time to think, you raised your gun and shot him dead between the eyes. Blood. Everywhere. The last remaining Gray hit the floor with a thud. Just as you thought you could finally relax and breathe, you remembered. _Everything._

“Sean! SEAN!” you screamed as you bolted across to where his body lay. Arthur tried to grab you, but you shook him off. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision, as you knelt beside the fallen Irishman. This is where he’d make some suggestive comment or hilarious joke. Try to lighten the mood. But no one could lighten the mood. Not anymore.

You don’t remember much of the ride back. You felt strangely numb. You recall that you were on Arthur’s horse, your tears preventing you from being able to ride yourself as Arthur had stated, wiping tears away and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, trying to calm you. You weren’t even that close to Sean, but he was that one person you could rely on to make camp a little bit brighter. You didn’t think camp would laugh again. Now that you had calmed down, you squeezed Arthur around his waist.  
“Thank you.”  
“It’s okay darlin’. I know you’re hurting. You’ve lost a lot of people recently. But I’m always gonna be here.” Arthur grabbed your hand with his, holding it tight. And he didn’t let go until camp was in sight. What were you all going to say? How could you tell them about Sean? Suddenly, that fear started to dissipate as, when you grew closer, you heard Abigail yelling, no, screaming at the top of her lungs. She was standing with Dutch and John, everyone else watching them from a safe distance. She sounded pained and angry, and, most disturbingly of all, terrified.   
“Where’s my son?”  
Jack. No. Not him too. Please let him be okay. You couldn’t take anymore. Not after Sean.  
“We think the Braithwaite woman took him. Kieran heard a couple of fellas, sounded like Braithwaite boys.” Hosea appeared, placing a comforting hand on Abigail’s shoulder. By this point, you and Arthur had approached them all, and he held your hand, rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. It would be more soothing, if his hands weren’t trembling so much.  
“If anything happens to him... Where is my son, Dutch Van der Linde?” her voice faltered and shook. John tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away, filled with rage that her sweet, innocent little boy had been caught up in Dutch’s plans. As you saw Abigail tear up, your hand clamped down on Arthur's, trying to stop yours from flowing again.  
“We will find him. We will bring him back to you. And we will kill any fool that had the temerity to touch one hair on that boys head.” Dutch’s first clenched, and you could feel everyone’s rage. He turned to you, and saw your tear stained face, eyes red and cheeks blotchy. “What... what happened, little one?”  
“Sean, he... they... they killed him, Dutch.” You could barely get the words out through choked sobs. “And... now Jack...”  
“We will get that boy back, so help me God. Micah! Kieran! Anyone strange turns up, kill them” Dutch addressed the gathering of men behind you, all of which had armed themselves to the teeth, preparing for what was to come, “The rest of you, let’s ride.” You turned to Abigail and gave her a comforting hug. Arthur rested his hand upon her shoulder, and your eyes met his. In that moment, everything flooded through you. Everything that brought you pain. Your brother’s death. Your father selling you into marriage. Flynn’s abuse. Jeremy’s death. Sean. Jack. Your body went cold, and your eyes blackened in bloodlust. You watched as Arthur’s sorrowful eyes filled with a little fear, and then a whole lot of rage of his own. You knew he was just as capable as you of succumbing to this killer’s fog you knew too well. His darkened eyes matched yours, and Abigail’s flicked between the two of you, worry across her face for a whole different reason.  
“Abigail.” Your voice sounded so distant and frightening, full of anger, “They. Will. Pay.”

With that, you spun on your heels and walked to your horse, leaving Abigail shaking and crying in the arms of Karen, who’d been wounded by the news of Sean's death. You left the camp with the men in formation, riding beside Arthur.   
“I’m gonna kill them all.” The words that left Arthur’s lips resonated through you, as if he stole the words right from your mouth.  
“Not if I kill them first.” You added, giving him a smirk. He returned it, and you felt deep guilt for thinking about how attractive he looked right now. Hair all messy from the previous fight, eyes darkened with the same primal rage you felt, dangerous smile. In other circumstances, you would have taken the man there and then.

As you approached the Braithwaite Manor, you all spread across the wide path leading to it. The moonlight shone through the trees lining the cobbled pathway. Lantern light dimly flickered around the archways. Advancing on the manor, you all dismounted, pulling various guns and weapons from your horses. You, in particular, armed yourself heavily. Already holding two revolvers on your gun belt, you grabbed throwing knives tipped with poison, a stick of dynamite just in case, and slung your double barrelled shotgun over your shoulder. Finally, you grabbed your prized Lancaster repeater, adorned with golden embellishments and Victorian style engravings. You ran your hand down the weapon, removing the blood of the rival family you had eliminated earlier. Once armed, you walked to stand between Dutch and Arthur, and saw they were both just as armed as you. Everyone slowly started advancing further, step by step, guns in hand. Surely you were quite an intimidating sight. John was slightly behind you, and you turned your head a little to face him.  
“You okay, John?” your rage subsided for a second to ensure your friend was holding up, despite everything.  
“I’m fine.” He spat through gritted teeth. Understandable.

“Get down here now! You inbred trash.” Dutch yelled, his voice breaking with the rage you could feel emanating from every man here. Who steals a god damn boy? Psychotic, redneck bastards. Three men came out from the porch, and stopped a few feet away. Dutch spoke up again, composing himself. He didn’t want to let his voice falter.  
“We've come for the boy. You must've known we would.”  
“Shouldn’ta messed with our business now, should ya?” the first man spoke up. Your hand was shaking with rage as you and Arthur came to stand either side of Dutch. He inhaled deeply, trying to contain his rage at the audacity of these people.  
“Whatever complaint you have with us, alleged... or otherwise... that is a young boy.” Dutch barked slowly, intimidatingly. “That is not how you do things. Hand him over.” Braithwaites started to pour out of the front door, and from around the side of the manor. The balcony doors flew open, and the upper level filled with men, aiming their guns at you. But you weren’t afraid. You were on the brink of slaughtering them all, and not a one of them could stop you.  
“Get the hell off our land!”  
“If you ain’t gonna be civilised about this...” Dutch turned his head towards you. You knew what he meant. You and Arthur raised your guns as Dutch did, dispatching of the trash in front of you. Everyone ran for cover, picking off men from a distance. But not you and Arthur. As if you both worked as one body, you pulled shotguns off your shoulders in synchronisation, and walked head first into danger. One by one, you watched their heads explode. You fog rolled over you, and you revelled in staining the walls with their inbred blood, disgusted that they would bring a young child into their affairs. As you approached the door, it was almost as if time stopped, as you and Arthur systematically slaughtered every man in the entryway. Dutch yelled ahead to search the rooms for Jack, and you started downstairs. 

As you turned a corner, you were tackled to the ground, gun knocked from your hand. You looked across to see Arthur pinned against the wall, fighting off a rather large goon. As the man on top of you tried to choke you, your hand fumbled for your knife. You vision started to darken, his hands clamping down harder on your throat. Then you found it. Firm grip on the handle, you plunged the knife into his neck, and threw his body off you, wiping his blood from your face. You grabbed a wine bottle from the table beside you and threw it to Arthur, who caught it expertly in his hand the smashed it over his attacker’s head, stabbing his abdomen with the broken remains of the bottle multiple times, until he fell to the ground. Jack wasn’t in here. John and Lenny emerged from the next room, empty handed. With that, the four of you charged upstairs, where you could here yelling. _Kill them all. They must pay._

Dutch and Hosea were trying to get into the master bedroom, but the door didn’t seem to budge. You were fairly certain there was a door inside on the balcony, which you headed towards. As you and Arthur stepped out onto the balcony, he grabbed you, his eyes burning with rage, and what appeared to be lust. He looked down at you, that dangerous smile again, as he grabbed you by the waist. Then his eyes began to wander, and suddenly stopped, his smile fading.  
“Your arm. Y/N, you’ve been shot.” His voice sounded a little frantic, and if it was possible, even more angry than before. You looked to where his eyes were fixated.  
“It’s just a graze.” You reassured him. You couldn't feel a thing. You had too much on your mind to care. In that instant, you heard noise from in front and behind, and, like a choreographed dance, with his free hand around your waist and yours on his chest, you both raised your revolvers and shot the men down. After watching the man you killed fall over the balcony railing to the ground below, you grabbed the lapel of Arthur’s coat and kissed him. He smirked down at you, and you set off to find another way into the bedroom. He pushed against the door, and it didn’t seem to give either. However, you pulled him back, and with a swift kick, you knocked the door off it’s hinges and it fell flat on the floor. You heard a small groan erupt from Arthur's mouth, that lustful look in his eyes again, and you turned to meet him with a devilish smile.

You opened the door for Dutch and Hosea, and you all stepped toward the bathroom.  
“Get out here.” Dutch ordered. The tone of his voice was terrifying, but not to you. You know he’d do anything to protect his family. The door flung open, and a man stood there, protecting Catherine Braithwaite. He glared at Dutch, shaking pointing a gun at him, and yelled,  
“You’ll have to go through m-"  
“Enough.” You sighed, with little to no emotion, and put a bullet in his head. Blood sprayed all over the Braithwaite woman and her once white nightgown. Arthur chuckled slightly from behind you, and Dutch walked forward, grabbed her, and threw her against the wall, his gun pointed at her head.  
“Where’s the boy?” Hosea screamed at her.   
“You killed my sons!”  
“Oh, and I will surely kill the rest of them unless you start talking.” Dutch had no patience for her nonsense.  
“I know your type. Common scum.” With that, you took a step towards her, but Arthur’s body flew forward as he pushed Dutch out of the way, and pressed his revolver against her temple, his face inches from hers.  
“Where. Is. The boy.” He spat out at her, so much rage in his voice. You’d never heard him so angry and intimidating before.  
“You filth.” Her voice shook as she spoke.  
“Alright.” Arthur had snapped, and threw her to the ground. Dutch grabbed her and pulled her down the stairs by her hair, not giving a care to her screams.

As you entered the foyer, smoke began to bellow out of the doorways. Charles and Lenny emerged behind another one of those Braithwaite scum, slowly burning to death. The smell lingered in your nose, disgusting you, but it only fuelled your hatred further for the people. Catherine was screaming the whole way. For good measure, you took a fire bottle from Arthur and tossed it on the staircase behind you, watching it go up in flames. Jack wasn’t here, that much was clear. Dutch threw the woman down harshly on the ground outside, and Hosea took his sawed-off shotgun, pointing it at her face.  
“Why'd you take the boy, Mrs Braithwaite.”  
“You stole my liquor. You stole my horses.” You saw John step forward, but Charles held him back. No one was holding you back, though. So you approached her, and kicked her in the face.  
“That’s no reason to ruin a child’s life. Now, where is he?” You screamed at her.  
“My sons gave him to Angelo Bronte.” That smug son of a bitch smiled at you. “So my guess would be Saint Denis. Either that, or on the boat to Italy.” There was that smug smile again. You kicked her in the face again, until she spat blood, and Arthur pulled you away from her.   
“She ain’t worth killing. Let’s go. Let her watch her home, her life, crumble.” Arthur growled in your ear. Your eyes darted to the flickering flames engulfing that God-awful manor. It was oddly peaceful, and you felt compelled to watch the fire destroy the house, and with it, the Braithwaites. You watched as Catherine cried, and stumbled back into the burning building. You heard her screams of pain as the flames swallowed her, too. _She deserves it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Arthur's just as bad as the reader for rage induced bloodlust frenzies! Good riddance to the Grays and Braithwaites...


	16. The Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! It's been a while! Hope to get updating more often, but got a lot going on this month. I'm still writing in my downtime, and enjoying every second of it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter. Just a short one, outlining how the reader feels and what she's going through following that ordeal.
> 
> As always, I always love reading and replying to your comments, so go ahead and leave one!

This wasn’t the plan. You were meant to be riding back into camp, with Jack in your arms, silencing Abigail’s sobs. But instead, here you all were, tails between your legs, covered in blood. John looked to be on the verge of a breakdown, as he hesitantly faced Abigail’s scorn, explaining her son had been taken to a man called Angelo Bronte.

Angelo Bronte. Now, why did that name feel so familiar?

You looked around the camp, everyone’s sombre mood reflecting the opposite of the morning gathering you thought fondly about. The was a big void, usually filled with Sean’s jokes and laughter Now, there was silence, and sobbing. And no one had any time to mourn Sean properly with Jack’s disappearance. Dutch’s words echoed through your head. _“That is a young boy. That is not how you do things.”_ You held your hopes up that no one would touch a hair on his head. He was an innocent, young child. The Braithwaites were scum for taking him, and you were glad they were all dead. The Grays, too. They ALL deserved it. _Dutch was a fool for thinking he could play them._ No, this can’t be Dutch’s fault, can it? He was just trying to do what’s best for the camp. _But he should have been smarter. More protective. How much more will go wrong?_ Nothing. Dutch is protecting us all. Looking out for us. He couldn’t have seen this coming.

_But you and Arthur did._

You wrestled with the voice in your head for a while, so engrossed and enveloped in yourself, you didn’t realise you were stood frozen in Arthur’s tent, and he was shaking you to get your attention.  
“Y/N! Are you alright?”  
“Erm…I…” you stuttered out with a raspy voice. It was at that point you noticed you had been crying, as broken sobs escaped your mouth, shaking your body as Arthur wrapped you up in his arms.  
“Come here,” he shushed you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, trying to calm you, “We’re going to fix this. Get that boy back.” He pulled back to place your face in his hands as he wiped away the fresh tears falling down your face. As he removed his hand, you could see it was covered in dried blood. Arthur grabbed a few things and stuffed them into a bag, you weren’t totally paying attention. He took your hand and led you towards the lake and you kept walking for a while, getting a considerable distance from camp, until he stopped and turned to you.  
“I’d take you to the hotel but… we kinda shot it up.” He chuckled a little, bit his smile didn’t reach his darkened eyes. “And I don’t wanna get too far from camp, just in case.” You nodded, still wrestling with something inside of you. The pale moonlight flickering on the lake’s surface was entrancing, much like the devouring flames that engulfed the manor you had just watched burn.

You and Arthur didn’t speak a lot, and he had to guide and help you, as you both removed your clothes and washed all the caked-on blood from your body. It felt good, washing off the reminder off all you’d lost today. Letting the cool water run through your hair as Arthur scrubbed it helped you feel a little more human. You started to wash Arthur’s hair in return, but couldn’t stop your hands from shaking. _If you had just made them listen in Rhodes. You could have stopped them. Could have saved Sean._ No, you tried to tell them, they wouldn’t listen. _That’s because they’re blind. Blinded by loyalty. But Arthur listened. And you knew._ That doesn’t mean anything. Arthur’s loyalty to Dutch runs even deeper than his loyalty to you, you’d bargain. And you were loyal to him. You’re just more perceptive. You see things Micah and the others don’t. _But you didn’t see it soon enough. Saw Jack disappearing soon enough, though. In your nightmares. You chose to ignore it. Every night. It’s all your fault._  
“No!” you screamed, absentmindedly tugging Arthur’s hair, pulling a hiss from him. He removed himself from your grasp, looking into your eyes with the aid of the dim moonlight glistening on the water around you. What he saw made his heart sink.  
“No, Y/N, I know that look. Don’t do this to yourself, please.”  
 _Arthur will see you for what you really are soon enough. They all will. You’re a liability._  
“Y/N?” Arthur pulled you out of the lake, taking note of your shaking form and dressing you, and himself, while you continued to argue with yourself.  
 _He can’t truly love you. You’re a monster._ He does. Its obvious in the way he looks at you. That was one thing you couldn’t convince yourself of otherwise. _Perhaps, but when he realises this is all your fault, he’ll change._ What if this really was all your fault? Sean? Jack?  
“Y/N, I know you’re in there, punishing yourself, but I could really use my fiancé right now.” You squeezed your eyes shut, Arthur’s desperate voice pushing the voice away. When you opened them, you saw tears rolling down his cheeks. You wiped them away and placed kisses where they once lay.  
“Arthur, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You held tightly onto him as you both sobbed into each other’s necks. His hand wound around your head and grabbed your hair, the other on your waist, and he pressed you as close to him as he could, afraid to ever let you go. There, you both stood, crying in each other’s arms, until the gentle breeze and the sound of each other’s heartbeats soothed you.

Hand in hand, you both headed back to camp. Everyone was going about their business, no one really talking to each other. Too much pain. You saw Abigail crying in John’s arms, and you felt guilt that you couldn’t return her little boy to her today. Hosea and Dutch looked up, pausing their conversation, and headed your way. The older gentleman instantly grabbed you and pulled you into a hug.   
“Sorry for all you had to see today. But you did good.” Hosea apologise, giving you an attempt at a smile. _He knew something was wrong too. He could see. Dutch didn’t listen._  
“Yes, Y/N. Thank you for all you’ve done. You too, son.” He smacked Arthur’s shoulder, as you involuntarily frowned at him. _He should have listened. Should have known. Now Sean’s gone. Jack’s missing. How many more must die before he sees the truth? You should have made him stop. Should have made him listen._ Stop. He couldn’t have known. This isn’t his fault. Is it?

The pair walked away to resume their talk in Dutch’s tent, as Arthur pulled you to his. His warm hands upon you made the voice disappear again. He laid you down in bed, as he got in beside you, and gently stroked your hair until sleep began force your eyes shut.  
“Arthur?”  
“Yeah, darlin’”  
“I’m sorry for scaring you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The killing, the losing focus, the voices…”  
“Ain’t nothing wrong with you. Believe me.” His voice was soft, but laced with something darker. You couldn’t take much notice before you fell asleep to him quietly whispering “I love you”

_Sean’s dead. Jack’s missing. And here I am, worrying about Y/N. I should feel guilty for ignoring the bigger problems. Ain’t worried about her killing all them folk. God knows I was just as bad today. It’s them voices. She had them years ago when things got bad. Can only imagine they haunted her through Flynn’s abuse. Sure, I got my own demons, but hers seem to make her blame herself and I want nothing more right now than to make them go away. Ain’t fair for her after all she’s done. All she did for us today. I know she’s gonna have those damn nightmares again tonight, but I’m here. Hope that’s enough._   
_Sure was fun to fight side by side again today though. The way she moves and kills like its some kind of effortless dance, I found myself watching her, working around her. Just like the good old days._


	17. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for the lack of updating - I'm terrible, I know! Here's a short one to keep things going. Forgive the phrase but the only way I can say this is - Have some goddamn faith! :D  
> I will be carrying on with this, I promise! Hoping to update at least 2/3 times a week!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, keep your eye out for another chapter soon!

The nightmares had grown darker that night. This time, you watched as that bitch, Catherine Braithwaite, dragged Jack behind her. He was yelling for Abigail. For John. For Uncle Arthur and Auntie Y/N. But you couldn’t move. You were stuck there. Not held back by anything physical, but by fear. Next to you lay Sean, bleeding out, just like he had back in Rhodes. Jeremy, his lifeless eyes boring into yours. Timothy, your brother, looking as innocent as the day he died. Jack’s screaming grew louder as Catherine handed him to a silhouette of a gentleman, wearing a top hat and a shotgun coat. Wealthy, you could tell. And you stood there, watching it all happen. That was, until you were awoken.  
“Y/N?” Arthur laid beside you, shaking you slightly. No, he wasn’t shaking you. Your sobs were. He wrapped his arms around you. “It was just a dream, okay? You’re alright.”  
“It’s not me I’m worried about, Arthur.”  
“I know. But we’re gonna get that kid back. We have to.”

As time passed, Arthur fell asleep beside you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close your eyes again. Let the nightmares roll in again. Some sunlight was shining in through the holes in the tent, and you could hear some distant voices outside. It felt wrong, breaking your usual morning routine with Arthur, but there was no way you were sleeping. Once dressed, you approached Charles and John sat around the campfire. John had his head in his hands, but they both turned to greet you, as you slumped yourself down on the seat between them. Charles rose to pour himself some more coffee but handed the cup to you.  
“You look like you could use it more.” You shared a smile before burying your face in the cup. Charles took the hint, you weren’t in the mood to talk yet, and turned his attention to John. “How’s Abigail doing?”  
“She’s a mess. Took everything to keep her away from the whiskey last night.”  
“Must be awful for her. But she’s lucky to have you, John.” You rested your hand on his shoulder, and he looked up with sadness in his eyes with a small smile.   
“I should be doing more. Should be out there getting my boy back.”  
“We have to be careful though. I’m sure Dutch has a plan.” Charles cautiously said.  
“Yeah. Dutch _always_ has a plan…” you shakily spat through gritted teeth. You didn’t intend on saying the words aloud, but the small sighs from the two men you sat with told you that they understood exactly what you meant. There was no malicious intent behind your words. Just disappointment for another plan gone wrong. Hosea and Dutch had been arguing more and more each day about plans for their future, and camp had noticed. Both these men had raised you and Arthur, and you know they would both do anything for you. So who were you supposed to side with? 

Cain, the dog that appeared in camp a few weeks back, circled around for a while before resting at your feet. You recalled when Jack had told you that he’d convinced Dutch to keep him around. The way his eyes lit up whenever he saw the dog. You leant down to give him a loving pat.  
“You’re missing Jack too, huh? Not too much longer, boy. We’ll get him back.”

Lenny approached the campfire, greeting you all as he brewed a fresh pot of coffee.   
“How’re you doing this morning, Y/N?”  
“What do you mean?” you asked as Charles also turned to look at you. Nothing bad had happened to you. Why were they concerned about you?  
“Well, you had quite a day yourself yesterday. Fighting all those Greys in Rhodes.” Charles commented, looking at you with a little concern.  
“And then the Braithwaites, too.” Lenny added.  
“And you seemed a little… off last night. Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine.” You said to Charles, a little emotionless. He knew better than to push further.  
“Well, I can say for sure I never seen anyone, man or woman, fight like you, Y/N!” Lenny chuckled, and the sound made you smile softly. You missed everyone’s laughter. Another chuckle came from behind you, as a warm hand rested on your shoulder.  
“That’s my girl.” Arthur smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He grabbed himself some coffee and changed the subject, attempting to cheer John up. Meanwhile, the rest of the camp gradually came to join you all. Even Abigail, once she left her tent and sat between you and John, wore the occasional smile. Whenever she began to look more tearful, you’d grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. When Dutch appeared, he looked terribly tired and guilty. His face looked worn and his eyes red, surrounded with the darkness you wore too from the lack of sleep. He wouldn’t look in Abigail’s direction, until she stood up. You and John shared a worried look, unsure how this was going to play out. Everyone grew silent as she poured a cup of coffee and walked over to Dutch.  
“Morning, Mr Van der Linde.” She kindly greeted, handing him the coffee. He took it, placed it beside him, and pulled Abigail into a hug. It was as if the entire camp was holding their breath, and, with relief, the conversation grew again after the exchange. Arthur wrapped his arm around your waist. But the moment couldn’t last forever. There was work to be done. Jack was with this “Angelo Bronte”, and there was no time to waste in finding him. Before you knew it, the quiet lull passed and everyone was getting ready for the day, but you and Arthur sat with Abigail, knowing she needed some company right now while Dutch had pulled John aside to talk. You were proud of how much John had stepped up, and how good his relationship with Abigail had grown since your talk with him.  
“Y/N, can I speak to you for a minute?” Hosea asked, a little hesitant, and gauging Arthur’s reaction far more than yours. The old man didn’t need to ask, he was more of a father to you than your actual father had been. You nodded, giving Abigail’s hand another squeeze, Cain’s belly another rub, and Arthur a quick peck on the cheek, before following Hosea to the water’s edge.  
“What can I do for you, Hosea?”  
“This came for you a few days ago. Wasn’t sure if I should give it to you. Wasn’t sure if you’d want it, or if now is the best time. But if there’s anything this whole thing has taught me, it’s that there might never be a good time.” He pulled an off-white envelope from his back pocket and handed it to you. The whole thing was doused in whiskey, mud, and blood. You didn’t need to read it to know who it was from. You shook your head.  
“No. No, Hosea, I don’t want it. Not now, not ever.”  
“Y/N, maybe he wants to explain, he is your-”  
“He SOLD me, Hosea. Gave me to Flynn and his horrible family for money. His own daughter.” Your voice had raised considerably, and Arthur’s head turned to look over at you. “That man is nothing to me.” You began to walk away, to where Arthur stood, concern and intrigue on his face. When you reached him, you took his hand in yours. Abigail was sat nearby, John beside her, and Cain fussing over them both. Dutch stood behind Arthur, and Hosea beside him. You gave each of them a knowing and lingering look, sure of your decision.  
“Burn it, Hosea. I have my family right here.” You stood there, surrounded by all the people you cared for most. All, except Jack.

“Hey Dutch. We got a problem.” Lenny yelled from across camp. Your eyes wandered up to see his hostility, pointing a gun at your unwanted guests. That black and red attire you feared seeing again. Agent Milton, and his lackey, Ross.  
“Not a problem, visitors.” Milton grinned.


	18. Something to Live and Die For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just a heads up, I updated chapter 17 to be an actual chapter rather than a “notice” so make sure you check that out! Enjoy the chapter, and as always, leave comments! I appreciate them and love getting the chance to speak with you all!

“Good day, fine people.” That voice, making you feel sick, smugly barked as he wandered into camp, like he owned the place, and addressed you all in a hauntingly familiar, yet menacing tone. “Mr Van der Linde. Mr Matthews, I presume. And… who are you?” He paused his scanning eyes over John.  
“Rip Van Winkle.” John replied, without hesitation. Milton didn’t seem to buy it and introduced himself and his associate.   
“Mr Morgan, Miss L/N. Nice to see you again.” His eyes lingered on you and Arthur instinctively stood in front of you, fists clenched, radiating anger and power and the need to protect you. In that moment, you took a second to look at the one you loved more than anything in this world. There he stood, throwing his body between you and danger. His hungering desire to protect you. His passion and his bravery and his courage. His loyalty to you and to those he cared about. His unconditional, unequivocal, and undying love and devotion to you. And you unmistakably felt the exact same way about him. You played with the ring around your finger. You had him worried. All this frenzied killing and silence and the voices torturing you – they were torturing him too. You had to make things right, you had a burning desire to show him exactly what he meant to you. But now wasn’t the time.  
“And to what do we owe the pleasure, Agent Moron?” Dutch quipped, seemingly proud with himself. Agent Milton ignored the humour and babbled on about his so called “civilised land", and how you all lacked dignity and decency. And Dutch was right when he questioned him. This place was far from civilised. Civilisation was a front. A mask that the rich men of the country cowered behind. But you knew better than anyone – they were far from civilised. THEY were the savages. Not you.   
“But I came to make a deal. It’s time.” Milton’s pompous voice echoed through your head. Ross silently stood beside him, loosely clutching his gun like a crutch. Like he needed it to show how important and intimidating he was. All it came across as to you was clear overcompensation, and fear. Milton proposed Dutch hand himself over, and the Pinkertons would give you all 3 days head start to run away and start normal lives.  
“You came for me?” Dutch began. He always had a way with words. He was stalling, distracting, as the others edged around to surround the agents from all angles. “Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Ain’t that fine.” A small chuckle erupted from his chest and echoed through the other camp members. You didn’t laugh, though. As the words came from Dutch’s mouth, you thought about how easy life could be if you ran away with Arthur. Married, found a ranch to settle on, start a family, be free from being pursued and hunted. You felt awfully guilty for those thoughts, but one thing stuck with you. Arthur didn’t laugh either. No, he grabbed your hand and his eyes bored into yours, as they reflected the guilt you felt too.  
“I don’t wanna kill all these folk, Dutch. Just you.” Milton stated, an attempt at intimidation.  
“In that case, it'd be my honour to join you.” Dutch walked forward, hands up in surrender. You knew this move. “Excuse me, friends. I have an appointment to keep with...” His words died out and every single one of you drew your weapons – pistols, revolvers, repeaters, shotguns – and readied them. Yours and Arthur’s revolvers were the first to make a synchronised click.  
“I think your new friend should leave now, Dutch.” Miss Grimshaw spoke, far more menacing than Milton could ever be.  
“You’re making a big mistake. All of you. And you,” His eyes settled on you, narrowing in disgust. “never took you for a criminal. Didn’t think you’d have it in you. I’m sure your husband will be glad to know we’ve found you again.” You pushed past Arthur to stand a little in front of Dutch, glaring into Milton's smug face.  
“You don’t understand us. We have got something, something to live and die for. How awful for us, Mr Milton. Stop following us. Stop following me.”  
“I’m afraid I can’t. And when I return, I'll be with fifty men. All of you will die.”  
“That’s the part you’re not understanding, Agent.” you spoke up again, taking another step forward, and you swear you could see the man wince and shrivel back under your gaze, “That doesn’t scare us. If we run, we run as a family. If we fight, we fight as a family. If we die, we die as a family.” You could feel Arthur edging closer behind you. Milton huffed, turned on his heels and pushed his way out of camp, his lapdog, Ross, nipping at his heels with his rifle still in his clutches.

“What now?” Arthur asked, coming to stand beside you.  
“We get out of here, and quick. Any ideas?” Dutch began forming a plan in his head.  
“I know I big old house hidden in the swamps outside Saint Denis. I’m sure they’ll find us eventually, but it should buy us a few days.”  
“Long enough to get Jack back.” You added.  
“It's a spot out by Shady Belle. Place is well hidden.”  
“Right.” Dutch ordered. “Arthur, Y/N, John, you ride out and make sure no one else had moved in.” He continued giving the camp instructions while you gathered your things and headed for the horses. Last thing you heard before mounting up was Dutch yelling for the camp to start packing up.

The ride to Shady Belle was fairly silent, with the odd remark about making sure we get Jack back soon, and safe. When you arrived, it was deathly silent, but something seemed off. After Rhodes, you learnt to trust those gun feelings. You quietly dismounted and approached the mansion cautiously. When you all reached the door, you paused, and as you turned to ask how you were going to approach this, the door burst open, and a scrawny man jumped onto your back, trying to strangle you. With the breath knocked out of you momentarily, you composed yourself and threw them man over your head, slamming him down into the decking, and shot him between the eyes.  
“Okay then, guess we got some occupants to clear out. Marston, you take downstairs, we'll head upstairs. Ready?” Arthur gave orders and waited for your nods in return. You stormed the house, hearing a couple of gunshots behind you, and you headed upstairs. Arthur took one room and you walked into another, seemingly the master bedroom. Gunshots came from downstairs, and in the adjoining room. But in here sat one man. He was old and frail, and he held a revolver in his hands, pointed straight up at his head.  
“I knew you’d come. You, or some others like you.” He said. He sounded fed up. Finished with whatever his life entailed. Complaining about the civilisation of the land. You were too focused on pointing your revolver at him, ready to strike before he could, should he decide to aim that gun at you. His fingers began the squeeze around the trigger.  
“Our fight will live on!” he yelled. And he pulled the trigger, just as Arthur walked into the room. He gave the body a once over, threw a soft glance your way, and left to pick up a body in the next room, while you grabbed the old man. You carried them out, throwing them into the swamp water nearby, and Marston came out with another body.  
“We can finish up with the bodies, Marston. You go meet the others, bring them here.” Arthur patted John on the shoulder, and he nodded, leaving the two of you alone. 

While Arthur dealt with the last body, you sat yourself beside a large tree overlooking the swamps. You were thinking about everything that’s happened in the last few days, when you heard soft footsteps approaching.  
“Hey there, darlin’” you smiled sweetly at his voice, and as he sat himself behind you, scooting you forward from the tree, placing his legs either side of you, and pulling you back into his chest.   
“Are you okay, Arthur?” a hint of worry present in your voice. “You've been too busy worrying about me, we haven’t had the time to worry about you.”  
“Long as I got you, I’m just fine.”  
“I love you.”  
“I love you, too.” He chuckled. “I thought that was pretty brave. Standing up to Milton like that. I hate the way he threatens you. Got no right to.” His hands tightened around you, his voice faltering a little. “I’m just... I’m worried one of these days we ain’t gonna be able to talk out way outta this.”  
“I know what you mean. I think about us... Our future... I mean…” Arthur seemed a little stunned by your words, and you buried your face in your hands, embarrassed.  
“I think about it too, you know. Very often.” He pulled your hands away from your face and turned you to look at him. “I always though we’d run a little ranch. Couple of kids, maybe.” You looked at him, shocked, happy, loving him and every word that came from his mouth. “Dutch and Hosea are family. They all are. But I can’t do this forever. I need you, and I need to protect you. Can’t do that if we keep throwing ourselves into danger.”  
“I adore you, Mr Morgan.” You said, as you straddled him, taking his mouth with yours. His hands held your waist, and you began to grind at his hips a little, extracting a rough moan from him. You smiled and pulled back to look at his ocean blue eyes, feeling as if you could drown in their darkened, lust filled gaze. “Come on, the others will arrive soon.”   
“We still got a moment.” And he pulled your lips back to his, desperate and hungry to kiss you and love you in your quiet, intimate moment together, hoping it would never end.


	19. A Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally free from deadlines and exams! Back to writing more often for you guys!  
> Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Hope to update again soon.
> 
> All your kudos and comments are appreciated! <3
> 
> *Also this bit in italics at the start is Arthur's journal. Can't seem to get a gap between that and the rest of the text*

_Can’t believe I'm saying this... but I’m jealous of Marston. I want what he has. A wife and a child. He’s an idiot to ignore what he’s got. Worrying about Jack has made me realise how much I want a family again. And this time, I’m going to protect them, or die trying. World’s growing more civilised day by day. Sooner or later, I’m gonna pull Y/N out of this life, give her the one she deserves._  
You awoke in Arthur’s arms, warm, cosy and comfy. While the bed wasn’t as comfy as those in the hotels you stayed at frequently, it was a damn sight more comfortable than the cot you were used to. You could tell he’d already awoken a while ago, his journal laying open on the table beside the bed, along with 2 steaming cups of coffee. It was barely light outside, and you’d been riddled with nightmares all night, keeping the two of you up most of the night. At one point you’d woken up screaming, to which Arthur soothed you and kissed you and calmed you back to sleep.  
“Morning, Y/N. I got coffee, unless you wanna sleep some more?” You followed the noise until your lips found his. Sleepily, you rubbed your eyes as you both sat up, reaching for the mug.  
“Coffee sounds good. I don’t think… what?” You watched the biggest, most heart-warming smile spread across his face, and it caught you off guard. “What is it?”  
“What is what?”  
“That look, Arthur.”  
“Nothing.” He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, as a gentle blush rose to his cheeks. Even after all these years, you still made him blush, and he you. “You just look so cute, all sleepy.”  
“Even when I keep you up all night, screaming?”  
“Well, wouldn’t be the first time.” He winked at you, and you hit his shoulder in feigned offence, giggling away with him.  
“Only you, Mister Morgan.”

There was a soft knock on the door, and, after Arthur yelled to come in, you were met with the image of a man riddled with guilt. It seems sleep eluded Dutch, too. His vest was misbuttoned, and he looked more exhausted than he did the morning before.  
“Sorry to interrupt, I just…” Dutch’s eyes met yours as he looked at you with sadness, “I just wanted to check you were okay. I could hear you…last night. The screaming and crying.” He walked across to the bed and held out his hand, which you took as you placed down your coffee and stood up. Dutch wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tight. “I was worried about you, little one.” That nickname that had stuck around since you joined him reminded you of that time. When things were simpler, easier. Safer.  
“I’m okay, Dutch. They’re just nightmares. Sorry they’re keeping you up though. You look worse than I feel.” You joked, earning a chuckle from both him and the man behind you. You stood back from Dutch’s embrace, and fixed the buttons on his vest, and he smiled down at you. As you straightened out his collar, Arthur set down his coffee with a thud and spoke.  
“So, what’s our plan with this Bronte fella?”  
“Me, you and John are going to head into Saint Denis.” Dutch replied as you finished fixing his clothes. “We’ll ask around, try and find out how to find him. Pay him a visit.”  
“Can I help?” You asked. You were desperate to do something to aid finding Jack, even though you body, and, more importantly, your mind, was screaming for a break.  
“I want you to take it easy today. Just help around camp. I’m sure Abigail would love the company from you, too.” Dutch sounded concerned about you. He quickly kissed your forehead before leaving you both to get ready. Arthur grabbed you around the waist and pulled you down onto his lap. He peppered your neck with kissed, causing giggles to erupt from your mouth.  
“Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but I’m glad you’re not coming. You could use a rest.” You nodded in agreement, wrapping your arms around his neck.  
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad too.” You pressed a light kiss to his lips, and stood up, throwing a clean shirt his way. “Means I get a break from you, cowboy.” That was it. You made a break for the door, but he grabbed you, dropped you on the bed, and tickled you relentlessly.

The day was passing slowly. It was only noon, and you’d already fed the horses, fetched water, and chopped some firewood. You could hear Miss Grimshaw chastising the girls for not pulling their weight.  
“If Miss Y/N can run with the men, and do all your jobs too, I’m sure you can manage to do your chores! Insolent little women…”  
It made you laugh, but you were happy to keep yourself busy. You watched as Abigail kept herself busy too. She often looked out to the entrance to camp, wondering when John would be back, and if he’d return with their son. You felt bad for her, and so, once you all grabbed a bowl of stew, you pulled her and Hosea over for a game of dominoes. You were both appalling compared to the old man, but you had fun. And it managed to keep Abigail’s eyes from solemnly staring out down the path.  
“You know, ladies, I can only think of one person worse at dominoes than you two.” Hosea teased.  
“Arthur.” You and Abigail chimed in unison, laughing away.  
“That man has very little patience for this.” Hosea sighed, remembering teaching him to play as a child.  
“Very little patience for anything. You’ve seen him fishing.” You joked.  
“Got patience for you, though.” Abigail smiled, looking down at your ring.  
“Speaking of having patience…” Hosea began, as he pulled an envelope from his back pocket. It was that letter again. “I didn’t want to get rid of it. I figure that should be your choice.” He slid the letter over to you. You stared at it for a while, then you gave Hosea a small smile and put the letter in your satchel. You weren’t sure if you were going to read it or not, but you took it regardless.

The hours passed slowly, and the men still hadn’t returned. You caught yourself staring at that path leading to camp more often than Abigail. You spent a little time with Kieran, washing the horses. You learnt how to make poisoned throwing knives with Javier. You even spoke to Micah. Granted, it was telling him to “piss off” when he interrupted your conversation with Mary-Beth with some lewd comment.

As the sun began to set, you found yourself sat against the tree you and Arthur had shared a moment at the evening before. You pulled the letter from your satchel, fidgeting with it, unsure of whether to open it, or throw it in the bayou.  
“Hey, er, Y/N?” You rolled your eyes. You didn’t want to deal with him right now.  
“What is it now, Micah?”  
“I was just gonna apologise for before. I know I get a little… outta line.” You scoffed at his attempt at an apology.  
“A little?” You turned to look at him, and he genuinely looked apologetic. “It’s fine. I’ve met worse men.” You were still fidgeting with the letter in your hands.  
“From your father, right?” You looked up at Micah quizzically. “Overheard you and Hosea talking the other day. I know he ain’t exactly a good man, from the stories I’ve heard.”  
“Not really, no.”  
“But if I had the chance to speak to my dad again, I know I’d take it.” He smiled at you, and not in a menacing way. It was strange, but the gesture was kind, and, in a way, helped you decide what to do. As he walked away, you peeled the edges of the envelope up and removed the letter. Short, and to the point. Typical of father…

_Dear Y/N,_  
_I hear you’re running with Dutch again. Don’t ask how. I have my ways. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for leaving you with that terrible man all those years ago. I should have known better. You’re more important to me than a paycheck. I’d love to see you. I’m staying in the hotel in Saint Denis. Please stop by. I miss you._

You sighed, slipping the letter away. Feeling confused, you leant back into the tree. What were you supposed to do? See him? Forgive him? Yell at him? Ignore him? Cain came and lay next to you, and you absentmindedly stroked his fur, closing your eyes for a minute.

“Well, hello there, sleeping beauty.” That warm, familiar drawl pulled your eyes open. When did it get dark?  
“Sorry.” You began apologising needlessly as he rolled his eyes, pulled you up and silenced you with a kiss.  
“How’s your day been, darlin’?” Arthur wrapped his arms around you and kissed your neck, his stubble scratching lightly, sending shivers through your body, his scent enveloping you.  
“incredibly dangerous. Hosea absolutely destroyed me at dominoes. And I almost got soap in my eye when I cleaned the horses.” You winked at Arthur and he softly chuckled.  
“Very funny. I had my satchel stolen by a child.” You laughed. Hard.  
“You win. So, Jack. Did you-”  
“Auntie Y/N!” You spun around to see Jack running towards you. You knelt to grab him in your arms and lifted him up, spinning him around as you hugged him.  
“Oh Jack! We have missed you so much!” You popped him back down on the ground, where Arthur ruffled his hair. You glanced up and saw Abigail beaming, holding onto John’s arm as he whispered something into her ear, looking over at you and Arthur.  
“No one has missed you half as much as your mama, though. Go tell her all about your trip.” Arthur had knelt down too to address the young boy. He bounded away, Cain nipping at his heels. As he left, you finally relaxed, and leant your head on Arthur’s shoulder. Finally, all this mess was over. You had missed Jack terribly. As you approached the rest of the gang, bottles of whiskey and beer were being handed around. You grabbed some whiskey and looked over at the empty seat at the campfire, feeling strong sadness for the one who should be sitting there.  
“I miss Sean.” You said aloud, eyes fixed on the empty seat.  
“We all do.” Arthur said, squeezing you around the waist. His voice laced with sadness and grief.  
“I know I complained about it, but I miss his incessant rambling.” John muttered, earning a laugh from everyone. 

The night went on as everyone continued drinking and giving very poor imitations of the Irishman you all so dearly missed.  
“You’re a real fucking funny shit aren’t ya, Arthur Morgan?” Arthur struggled to get out without laughing, showing off possibly the worst Irish accent you’d ever heard, getting a laugh from everyone around.  
“You know, my da always used to say…” You began, giggling your way through the line.  
“NOT THE DA!” Everyone yelled in unison, before erupting into laughter. As the laughter died down, Dutch raised his bottle.  
“To Sean.” You all raised your bottles and took a big swig.

You found yourself sat with the women, chatting away, while most of the men sat around singing. You were laughing away with Abigail when a hand pulled you up roughly from your seat, finding its way around your waist. Another grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled you into a passionate kiss. You could taste the cigarettes and whiskey on Arthur’s lips, which only led to you making the kiss deeper. He finally pulled back, becoming aware of everyone around you, and he leant in to whisper in your ear.  
“I’ve missed hearing that laugh. But, right now, I want to drag you upstairs and draw a different noise out of you.”  
You bit your bottom lip as you shuddered at his deep, demanding voice. You remembered his joke from this morning, knowing it would get the desired reaction from him right now.  
“You plan to keep me up all night, screaming, cowboy?”  
A deep groan escaped his throat, low enough for only you to hear.  
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He muttered. And with that, he pulled you by the hand towards the mansion. You turned back to roll your eyes at the wolf whistles from behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO SMUT INCOMING


	20. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. 20 chapters in and we're still going. I would not still be doing this without all you lovely folks' support and comments so thank you!
> 
> Been a while since we've had some smut so... enjoy!

As soon as the bedroom door shut behind you, you were pinned against it. One of Arthur’s rough hands slammed into the door beside your head, the other wrapping around the back of your neck, and his lips crashed into yours, hungry and desperate. He pressed his body flush against yours, and you could feel his arousal pushing into you. You earned yourself a loud growl from him as you ground your hips against him, and he broke the kiss, panting, wearing a huge smile on his face.  
“Easy, darlin'"  
“Shut it, Morgan.”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his lips back down to yours again. Arthur was your drug of choice, and, with all the pain and chaos recently, you had more than earned your fix. You unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off, hands roaming across his chest while your tongue danced with his. You traced every one of his scars softly with your fingertips, until your hands roamed down further and began to unbuckle his pants. His hands reached to unbutton your shirt, but you pulled his hair, breaking the kiss and causing him to look into your lust filled eyes. Your lips ran to his neck, placing hot kisses that quickly turned into bites all over. Arthur groaned deeply at the feeling. While he revelled in the arousing pain emanating from the hickeys you left on his neck, you sank to your knees, pushing down his pants, and placing small kitten licks from the base to the tip of his hard erection. His breath caught in this throat as he shuddered in pleasure, one hand flying to grab your hair, the other resting on your shoulder to steady himself. Quiet moans escaped him as you reached the tip of his cock, and they grew much louder when you took him in your mouth.   
“Fuck, girl.”  
He bucked slightly into your mouth, his hand loosening in your hair as to stop himself from pushing you too far. So, you grabbed his hand, placing it back into your hair, and he let go of his restraint. He started thrusting into you, lewd moans spilling from his mouth as he grew harder inside yours.

Suddenly, he pulled back and pulled you up into your feet, tracing your lips with his tongue while he finished unbuttoning your shirt. Once your breasts were freed, he placed kisses down from your collarbone until he took one in his mouth, squeezing the other with his rough, calloused hand. He left small bites across them both as he pushed you towards the bed. Once the back of your knees hit the edge you fell back, and he quickly removed your pants, leaving you bare. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulder as he knelt at the edge of the bed and plunged his tongue into your core. You cried out his name in pleasure, moans unable to stop spilling from your mouth. He pushed two fingers inside you as he redirected his tongue to play with your clit, building up a huge knot in the pit of your stomach. You bit down on the back of your hand to try and stifle your moans a little.  
“Don’t you dare cover that pretty mouth.” His dark eyes met yours, and you felt like you could almost come undone purely from his intense stare and lustful voice. You nodded, and he climbed up onto of you, his fingers still drawing moans from you. He pushed your hand away from your mouth, kissing the teeth marks you’d left in it. Moaning louder and louder, you felt the tension pooling in your stomach about to break, as he removed his fingers and smirked down at your desperate, writhing form. You growled deeply, reeling from your denied orgasm, and as Arthur began to lower himself to kiss you, you stopped him.  
“Enough.”  
Now you were in control. You rolled over so that you sat above him, your dripping wet core just inches from his erection. You started to roll your hips, grinding against his hard cock, drawing moans from you both. You could tell he wanted nothing more than to grab you by the waist and enter you, but you also knew he loved the feeling of you in control. And he knew better than to disobey you. One of his hands moved to rub that bundle of nerves, aiding in bringing you to the edge. A few more rolls of the hips and you came fully undone, shuddering as you fell forward, your hands resting on his chest. He pushed the hair from your face and looked into your eyes as you came down from your high.  
“God, you drive me crazy, woman.”  
In a quick motion, he pushed himself deep inside you, pulling another cry from your mouth. You always found you fit together so perfectly, like a jigsaw. He gave a few, slow thrusts, allowing you to adjust, before stopping, giving you a knowing look. You raised an eyebrow, smirking at this god like man laying beneath you, enjoying the way he looked up at you like you were something to worship. You began slowly bouncing up and down on his cock, his eyes fixated on your breasts that bounced with you. He cupped them with his hands as his breathing grew heavy, matching the moans flying shamelessly from you. You stopped caring who could hear long ago. His eyelids pulled shut as his hands roamed to your waist. You sped up a little, pulling moans from him. Until his eyes opened, and you knew that darkened look. He pulled you down so your bodies were pressed against each other, burying his mouth in your neck, leaving hickeys to match his, as he started thrusting fast and hard. It finally broke you, feeling so much pleasure all at once, and you screamed his name, moaning excessively loudly, as you came again.  
“That’s my girl”  
His thrusting didn’t cease, growing quicker and more erratic. You could see his pleasure building, so you reached up with one hand to wrap around his throat. He bit his bottom lip, and then his mouth fell open, screaming your name as he shuddered beneath you, spilling into you. His moans continued for a while as you decided to ride his cock while he came. He rolled you both back over, his breathing heavy, while he kissed you passionately. 

After he cleaned you both up, you lay in bed, and Arthur sat behind you, absentmindedly playing with your hair while he scribbled in his journal.  
“One of these days, you’re going to have to show me all the things you write about me in there.”  
Arthur chuckled softly. “Maybe, one day. But you’ll be disappointed to know I’m not writing anything right now.”  
“You still draw?” you smiled, remembering fondly his beautiful sketches of animals and flowers. You still have a sketch of a wolf stalking a deer he gave you one day, and written beneath were the words _I may regret I preyed upon your innocence, dear, but we both enjoy the hunt._  
“Of course. You gave me a complex, all them years ago. Telling me my little doodles were pretty.” Arthur responded. His pencil strokes were incredibly calming. You blushed, remembering how he used to draw you a lot. Sometimes he'd draw you sitting by the campfire singing with Dutch, sometimes he’d draw you doing odd chores. Often, he would draw you in more provocative situations, much like in that moment, where he sat drawing you laying naked before him.  
“You should get some sleep.” Arthur lovingly told you, concern lacing his voice a little. “You’ve barely slept recently. Relax, get some sleep. Ain’t got nothing to get up for tomorrow.” It was clear no one would be waking up very early tomorrow morning. You could still hear most of them singing around the campfire.  
“You haven’t had much sleep either.” You said, as you rolled over to look at him. “I’m sorry about that. So, you should get to sleep too.”  
“Don’t apologise. And I will, soon, once I’m done with this. Now, roll back over so I can finish it.”  
You giggled, lent up to kiss him softly, and laid back how you were before. His gentle hand playing with your hair and the soft scribblings while he sketched you sent you quickly to sleep.

_(a drawing of you laying before him took up most of the page, along with a few words)_   
_Y/N, my love, my heart is yours._


	21. A Lady, After All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short one today, expect the chapter up early next week. It'll be a long one!
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Thanks for all your continued support and kind words <3 I love you all!

“You look fine.”  
“I feel ridiculous!” You yelled at Mary-Beth and Tilly, who where currently tightening your dress. Dutch had insisted you accompany him, Arthur and Hosea to some garden party at the Mayor of Saint Denis’ house. It all seemed far too ridiculous and extravagant for simple outlaws like yourselves, but Dutch wanted to better his relationship with this Angelo Bronte fellow. Because, of course, after the mess in Rhodes, what could possibly go wrong here?  
“Honestly, Y/N, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You look stunning.” Karen uttered.   
“And Arthur picked it out special for your… for the party.” Abigail added. 

Giving the ribbons across the back of the dress one last tug, Mary-Beth spun you around to look in the mirror. You had to admit, the dress was kind of breath-taking. It was a deep red in colour, and gathered at the waist, showing off your figure. The main body of the dress was a plunging V-neck, showing off a decent amount of cleavage underneath a layer of lace that continued as sleeves. You were thankful for the lace over puffy, leg o’mutton sleeves. Back when you were dragged to gatherings with Flynn, the puffy sleeves made you feel totally ridiculous. Arthur had picked well. He knew you. Beneath the dress you wore a black corset and matching underwear. Something else Arthur had decided to buy for the occasion. You had to hide your blush as Sadie had fastened it, knowing exactly what Arthur’s intentions would be later.  
“Okay, I suppose it’s… well it’s quite pretty.” The girls practically squealed at your statement. You rolled your eyes at their excitement. Even Miss Grimshaw cracked a smile. All the girls couldn’t help but fuss over dressing you up tonight. You felt like a doll. A very pretty doll, though. Susan had done wonders with your hair; a neat, half up, half down do. Everyone seemed excited at the prospect of one of you getting all dolled up. Everyone, besides Molly. She was sat on the edge of Dutch’s bed across the room, brushing her own hair, staring into that pocket mirror, as she usually was.  
“I don’t understand why I had to spend so long getting ready! I mean, Arthur and Dutch and Hosea will no doubt have had a quick shave and thrown on a suit. This is ridiculous!” Although a small part of you was very excited. You never enjoyed going to parties with your husband and his awful family. But you were going with Arthur, and that made you happy.  
“But look at you! It’s worth it.” Abigail smiled. That, you couldn’t argue with. You did find it a little odd that they all made sure you looked perfect tonight. But they don’t get the chance to play with high society often, it was all very exciting. Just then, there was a soft knock on the door, greeted with a chorus of “come on in” from the women surrounding you.  
“Well, look at you.”  
You turned to meet Dutch’s eyes that were fixed on you. He had a huge smile across his face. Molly scoffed and stormed out of the room. Dutch didn’t even throw a glance her way. 

Things were difficult between those two recently. She was begging for attention from him, he was too busy planning for the gang’s future to spend all day every day with her. And, frankly, the rest of you were sick to death of her laziness. She was ‘Dutch’s girl’. She thought that meant she could get away with doing nothing. You were pulled from your thoughts when Dutch took your hand and wrapped it in his arm, leading you downstairs.  
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr Van Der Linde.”  
“You’re too kind, Miss L/N.”  
“Please. Tonight, I’ve decided, if I’m attending this party with Arthur, I’m Mrs Morgan.” You giggled. Dutch chuckled and beamed at you once more.  
“Suits you.”

Dutch walked you out of towards the edge of camp. Everyone seemed to be staring. Charles, Bill and Javier raised their bottles of whiskey at you both, to which you laughed. As you approached a carriage, Lenny, Hosea and Arthur all looked up to greet you. Lenny whistled in approval, and Hosea greeted you with a hug. Arthur stood there, motionless, as you walked up to him. He’d shaved his beard down to a thick stubble, and his hair was swept back. It was a little shorter than before, but still long enough to bury your finger into and grab a handful of hair. You wagered that was intentional, knowing how much he enjoyed the feeling. His suit fit perfectly around every muscle. There was no denying he scrubbed up well.  
“Y/N, you look…” Arthur trailed off. You leant up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.  
“You too.” You smiled. He suddenly wrapped an arm around your waist and crashed his lips into yours. After a few moments, you pulled back, breathless and smiling.  
“Easy, cowboy. It took 6 women to get me into this dress and looking like this. I don’t think they’d be none too pleased if you ruined it before we got to the party.” He raised his hands in surrender.  
“Fine, you’re safe. For now.” He winked at you, making you roll your eyes.  
“This dress is so inconvenient. I mean, where is a lady supposed to put her weapons?”  
“I believe a _lady_ ain’t supposed to carry a weapon, darlin’” Arthur laughed, and you rolled your eyes again, before piling into the carriage beside Hosea. Arthur followed, sitting across from you, and you giggled at the lack of space on the bench due to both Dutch’s and Arthur’s broad shoulders.   
“This feels like the old days.” Dutch said, shuffling in his seat a bit to accommodate for Arthur.  
“Been ages. I mean, before everyone else, there was us.” Hosea smiled. “It’s nice we’re all together again.”

After a while of reminiscing about past jobs and laughing at Hosea’s dramatic retellings, you started to approach Saint Denis.  
“Now, best behaviours, everyone.” Dutch was adamant this was no time for pickpocketing, no matter how tempting, and easy, it would be.  
“Any tips on mingling with high society, Y/N?” Hosea asked.  
“Hosea, there’s a reason Flynn didn’t often take me to these things. I ain’t no lady.” Everyone laughed at your boldness. They all knew full well how unladylike you were.  
“That’s my girl.” Arthur rested his hand on your knee and shared a smile with you.

You all stepped out of the carriage, and waved Lenny off to return later. Looking up at the manor, nerves started to set in. Your corset felt tighter than ever and you couldn’t breathe. Or move. You stood there, staring up at the huge, well lit manor in front of you. All those horrendous parties with Flynn came flooding into your mind. How he’d parade around with you on his arm, pretending he cared. How he’d kiss you, and you’d feel threatened. How he’d introduce you as his adored wife, then take you home and beat you for the smallest things. How he’d-  
“Y/N?” Arthur whispered, clutching your hand, and placing one of his on your cheek, pulling your eyes to his. You nodded quickly, pulling yourself together and catching up to Dutch and Hosea, who were talking to the guards at the door.  
“… and these are my associates, Mr and Mrs Morgan.” Dutch motioned to you two. Arthur’s hand squeezed yours at the mention of the name. Mrs Morgan. You smiled.  
“Very well, in you go. Weapons in the box, sirs.” The guard didn’t cast a glance at you, seeing you as no threat. Clearly, he didn’t suspect the small knife you had tucked into your corset. You were a lady, after all. After the men had disarmed, you all walked towards the garden.  
 _“Mrs Morgan?”_ Arthur raised an eyebrow at Dutch.  
“The lady insisted!” Dutch turned to laugh with you, and winked at Arthur, who hadn’t stopped smiling.  
“Well, then,” Arthur grabbed your hand, bringing it gently up to his lips in the softest of kisses, sending shockwaves through your body, “Shall we, Mrs Morgan?”


	22. Two Halves of a Perfect Whole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry this took longer to get up than I intended. I wish I had a good excuse. I dont. I finished far cry 5 in like 3 days. I got very distracted and have a new found love for John Seed. But I finally got this chapter done and edited and ready to post! I really hope you enjoy this one!!
> 
> Anyone who's played AC Syndicate will recognise little nods to the mission "A Night to Remember" and one of my favourite lines!

The party was dull. It reminded you of the ones you were forced to go to with Flynn. Women looking down on you, men looking hungrily at you. But this time, Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist, barely anyone dared to look at you. Even in the gorgeous dress you were wearing.  
“May I say again, Mrs Morgan, just how stunning you look tonight.” Arthur whispered in your ear as you followed Dutch and Hosea up to meet this Angelo Bronte. His voice sounded so caring and loving, with a hint of mischief.  
“You’re not going to let this Mrs Morgan thing go are you?” you raised an eyebrow. He chuckled.  
“You’ll understand.” He added. Alright, now you know he was up so something. Just what or when you had no idea. “And I sincerely hope you’re wearing what else I bought you underneath.” He growled deeply in your ear, squeezing your ass. His lust for you laced his voice deliciously.  
“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” you winked at him. He growled in your ear again.

You walked out onto a grand balcony to a group of men laughing. While you couldn’t understand the Italian they were speaking, you picked up from their tone of voice they were insulting someone.  
“Ahh, Mr Van Der Linde!” one of the snobby men greeted Dutch, following up by shaking hands with Arthur. Then Dutch introduced him to Hosea, and finally to you.  
“Mrs Morgan, what a delight.” He took your hand and pressed a kiss to it, and it took everything in you to keep a smile plastered on your face, no matter how much you wanted to scrunch your nose up at the gesture. Something about the way he looked at you didn’t seem right. Or maybe you were just growing suspicious of everyone.

One of Angelo’s men handed you a glass of champagne, and you welcomed any form of alcohol. Dutch was charming the man, or trying to, and it was utterly dull to watch. You’d found out that Evelyn Miller was at the party, and you longed to go and meet him. He was one of Dutch’s favourite authors, and, in turn, yours. He was here talking to some people about the rights of the Redskins, which also interested you. Charles had told you much of their struggles. But it didn’t seem tonight you would get the chance, as you turned to see Dutch laughing with Angelo Bronte. He was pointing out some other influential people at the party. And all was going well, Dutch was charming, everyone seemed relaxed. Until you heard it.  
“...and that over there. That man is Flynn Jameson. He owns a mining company up in Annesburg. Lovely fellow. Had his wife kidnapped a while back.”  
Your hand clenched on the balcony railing and your other nearly snapped your champagne flute in half. Arthur’s arm found it’s way around your waist and pulled you away from the edge, out of sight. His hand was trembling in the small of your back. You were... oddly calm. Tense, but not frightened. Not like Arthur seemed to be. You peered over into the garden again to see Flynn turning to leave. It seems Arthur saw it too, as his trembling ceased. Dutch glanced over at the two of you, giving you a reassuring nod. At least his conversation had come to an end. Turning to leave, you heard the same taunting laugh you entered to, and this time you were sure it was about you all. So you turned back. The glare in Angelo’s eyes was frightening. Knowing. Taunting. You didn’t trust that man as far as you could throw him.

“We should leave. We can’t risk this.” Arthur’s hands were twitching where his revolver would usually be while he spoke.  
“We can’t just leave. Do you know how suspicious that would look? No. Go and mingle with the guests.” Dutch ordered, a little frustrated. Arthur sighed, closing his eyes.  
“Hey, I’m fine.” You stroked his cheek with you hand.  
“See? She’s fine. Now, go see if Hosea needs you. Y/N, have a wander around, listen out for anything we could use.”

You followed Dutch's orders, and had picked up a few ideas of places to hit in Saint Denis. There was an illegal high stakes poker game above a store, and you heard good things about the bank. You were about to check in with Dutch, when you wrist was grabbed and you were turned to face him.  
“May I have this dance?” he said, more an order than a question. He always knew how to sound threatening.  
“Flynn. We’re in a public place. And I’m not here alone. You can’t just take me.”  
“I don’t intend to. I just want to talk.”  
“We’re done talking.”  
“Ah. Patience, my dear. That’s what the waltz is all about.” He grabbed your wrist again. “Its simple. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3.” Along to the beat of the waltz, he pointed at Arthur, Hosea and Dutch. And his men who held them at gunpoint. Your face dropped, and you turned to place your hand on his shoulder, sneering as he placed his on your waist. You saw Arthur jolt forward at the contact, but was pulled back by his captor.  
“I’m here to make you a proposition. Come back to me. Leave these monsters. I miss you darling.”  
“Miss me?” you laughed. “Oh that’s rich, coming from you. They’re not the monsters here Flynn, you are.”  
“You care about them, I can see that. I don’t want to upset you and hurt them. But I will. I’ll kill every last one of them if that’s how I get to you.”  
“You tried that already. You failed, if I remember.” You smiled devilishly. In the corner of your eye you saw a struggle.  
“Don’t test me, Y/N.” He turned you into a spin and pulled your hair as he did. “You’re well aware of what I’m capable of. I’ll give you some time to say goodbye to your precious family. But I expect an answer. Soon.” He bowed before you, signalling the end of your dance. Behind him stood the three men you longed to see, and you could see an arm sticking out of a bush. Here Flynn was, unprotected. You were still in public, and very visible. You knew you needed to cause a scene and slip out. So you did. Flynn stood before you and you pulled him in close by his hideous tie.  
“The key to the waltz, is one must lead with one’s right foot.” And yours connected with his groin, sending him to the ground. Arthur came to your side at once, and there was a commotion around you. Dutch and Hosea slipped past you, but Arthur stood before you a moment longer, waiting for some kind of confirmation that you were okay.  
“I never liked balls.” You winked at him, elicited a chuckle from him as he grabbed your hand and swiftly walked to the exit. The men recovered their guns and a stagecoach pulled up. Only this time Charles was driving it. Arthur and Hosea climbed in, but Dutch held you back.  
“We arranged two coaches back, just in case things went south. We’ll head over to the park, where Lenny will be.”  
You nodded, as you watched the other coach pull away. Dutch held his arm out, much like he had earlier, and you wrapped your arm with his.  
“Well, at least tonight wasn’t a totally disaster. I heard some good things about potential jobs.” You squeezed his arm as you briskly walked towards the park. The streets were beautiful in this light.  
“That’s good. We can talk about that tomorrow. If we get the chance.”  
“Why wouldn’t we get the chance?”  
“Erm.. I think Arthur had a job planned for the two of you tomorrow.” Dutch said. Why was he being so sketchy?  
“Right."

The rest of the walk was in silence, as was most of the coach ride. Unbelievably slow too. Guess Lenny didn’t want to get a wheel stuck in the muddy swamps. Dutch kept looking over at you, smiling.  
“What is it, Dutch?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Why are you acting so weird? Why is everyone acting so weird?”

As the words left your mouth, the coach turned down towards Shady Belle. A soft glow was emitting from the camp, much brighter than just from the campfire. Lanterns and candles had been placed everywhere. Flowers adorned the entire camp, and the path down into it. The tree’s silhouettes framed the yellow glow perfectly, and you sat there, head out of the window, staring in awe. It was magical.  
“Sorry for keeping this from you. But that fool down there wants to marry you. He’s wanted to marry you for ten years, and he doesn’t want to wait a moment longer.”

You gasped as tears ran down your face. Everything about this was so beautiful and perfect. Dutch moved to sit beside you as the coach came to a stop. He wiped the tears from your cheeks, and pulled you into a hug. After a tender moment, you pulled back and smiled.  
“I’ve never seen you so beautiful, little one.” That childhood nickname brought fresh tears to your eyes. This man you always looked to as a father was finally going to see you marry. “Now, I know, technically, you’re married. And this ain’t a proper marriage. But to all us, it’s more real and meaningful than all that.”  
“Its perfect.” You uttered, on the verge of more tears. “He’s perfect.”  
“Shall we?” You nodded at Dutch's question, and he stepped out the carriage, holding his hand out to help you down. You held onto his arm again. Your heart was racing, head spinning, and you held onto Dutch tightly to stop yourself from falling. But then you looked up. You saw him. All the eyes on you didn’t matter. He was standing there. Handsome as ever, nervous hands shaking. Until his eyes met yours. Both your nerves melted away into huge smiles and looks of pure adoration as you walked towards him. His piercing, ocean blue eyes bored deep into yours, pulling you closer. It felt like an eternity, but Dutch finally got you there. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, and turned and hugged Arthur.  
“My son, I’ve never been more proud of you.” Dutch whispered to Arthur, and you swear you could see a tear forming in Arthur’s eye.

Hosea led the ceremony. In true Hosea fashion, he told stories about you as kids. How you teased each other, competed with each other constantly. And he told the story about you both, finally, confessing your feelings for each other.  
“Of course, we’d all known for years something was there. These two stubborn idiots just wouldn’t admit it.” Everyone laughed, and you squeezed Arthur’s hand. Your eyes hadn’t left each others since you reached him. You were enamoured with him, and he with you. Two halves of a perfect whole. After a few more words, Hosea brought the ceremony to a close, bringing almost everyone in the camp to tears.  
“Arthur, Y/N, you’ve wrestled through hell to be here together, and there aren’t two people in this world more perfect for one another. Seal your vows with a kiss, and walk this earth from this moment on as husband and wife.”  
You smiled up at Arthur, as one of his hands reached around your waist, the other around your neck, and your hands grabbed the lapels of his jackets. He edged closer, whispering “finally” before he took your lips with his, gently kissing you. His stubble scratched at your face, as his lips softly danced against yours. There was noise from all around you, but you couldn’t really hear it. You rested your forehead against his as you both pulled away for breath.  
“I love you, Arthur.”  
“I love you too, Mrs Morgan.”


	23. Notice!

Hey y'all! Sorry for not updating this week! Been very busy with things. Doesn't mean I'm not updating this though. Expect something in the next week <3


	24. Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that its been a while! Had a lot going on, so it took me a while to have the chance to sit down and write.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and, as always, I look forward to your comments <3
> 
> Here's to Mr and Mrs Morgan!

Shady Belle was filled with laughter and singing all through the night. The moonlight shone down brightly through the trees, and the campfires flickered, creating dancing shadows and silhouettes in their brilliance. Alcohol flowed, and the everyone feasted in celebration.

Jack had been the first to fling himself at the two of you, hugging your waists after you shared your first kiss as a married couple. He looked like he could barely contain his childish excitement the whole ceremony. You giggled and twirled him around, placing a kiss on his temple, before putting him back down to greet the bombardment of hugs headed your way.

It seemed everyone was happy for you both. Or they were happy for the opportunity to drink. The latter seemed the case for Micah, who kept his distance during the night. Probably for the best, considering your…difficult relationship with him. You weren’t sure what you’d say to the man if he had approached you, but you were certain anything that he could have said would be insincere. He did give you a smile though, and raised his beer bottle to you, a gesture which you returned.

The women’s fuss over you made sense to you now. Grimshaw was beside herself Arthur finally “found a woman who’ll put up with his grumpy ass”. Karen and Tilly laughed at Susan’s bold comment, congratulating you all the while. 

Mary Beth had tears streaming down her face through the ceremony, and kept telling you how beautiful you looked, and how happy she was for you. The girl was in love with the idea of love, and you glanced over at her through the night, watching her scribbling things down. You adored her writing on the odd occasion she showed it to you, and the thought of her writing about you and Arthur warmed your heart. 

Abigail was about as excited as her little boy, making a passing comment about not being the only “old lady” around camp. You could tell she had been crying, which just made you cry in return.

Molly was, well, she was Molly. You watched her staring daggers at Dutch all night as her eyes grew envious every time her gaze fell on you. Arthur gave you a squeeze around the waist as Molly caused a scene, throwing glances at you while yelling at Dutch, before storming off to bed very early.

Sadie was incredibly happy for you and pulled you both aside after a few hours of celebrating.  
“I couldn’t be happier for y’all. You remind me of me and my Jake.”  
“Sadie…” you pulled the woman into and embrace, and Arthur rested his hand on her shoulder as tears formed in her eyes.  
“I got you something. I know I weren’t supposed to, but,” She reached behind her where she had placed a small scrapbook, “it’s only something small. It’s always nice to have something to look back on, so make sure you fill this with memories of the two of you.”  
Now tears were spilling from your eyes and you hugged her again, and you took the small book, clutching it to your chest as Arthur wrapped his arm around your shoulders, gently kissing your forehead and wiping your tears away.  
“Thank you, Mrs Adler.” Arthur spoke when it became evident that you couldn’t form words quite yet.  
“Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Morgan.” She winked and headed on over to grab a bottle of beer. You squealed upon hearing that name again. It felt so right. You looked up to meet Arthur’s loving gaze, and as your lips drew closer and closer, you heard your names being called from across the camp. He chuckled, pressed a quick kiss to your lips, and led you over to the voice.

The men were a little more inclined to be excited for the excuse to get drunk. Bill, Pearson, Swanson and Uncle seemed to have a drinking contest going on, and barely paid attention to the reason for the party. Charles was sweet, congratulating you both. He, too, had got you both a present.  
“I wasn’t sure what to get, but then I remembered who you both are. So here.” Charles handed over 2 sets of beautifully shiny throwing knives. The handles were adorned with roses and skulls. You couldn’t be more grateful for the gift; the man knew you both well.

Lenny and Kieran both congratulated you, wondering how on earth you were going to put up with Arthur’s grumpiness and pouting. He laughed it off, but you caught him mouthing “Watch yourself, O’Driscoll” at Kieran, making you giggle and apologise to the poor man, who grew quiet and pale at the threat. 

Strauss didn’t really approach you through the night. He spoke to Arthur, but it seemed the Austrian had said something to annoy the cowboy, causing him to storm off back to your side.  
“What was that about?”  
“Nothing, just Strauss being a damn blood sucker. Can’t just forget about business for one day, let me be happy...” Arthur rambled, trailing off, avoiding your gaze. You gently held his chin between your thumb and forefinger, pulling him to look at you.  
“Tell me about it.” He stayed silent, still trying to avoid looking at you, so you pinched his chin a little. “I am your wife, after all.” You winked at him, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.  
“Just some dead debtor. Remember Thomas Downes? That guy from Valentine? Well, he owed Strauss a lot of money. I went to see him, and there he was, standing there with his wife and son. He was dying, darlin’. And all I could think about was how I would have done the same in his shoes. How I would do anything to make sure you would be okay if something were to happen to me. I couldn’t do it. Told Strauss to leave him be. He’s still giving me shit about it. The guy passed away and he wants me to harass the wife for the money. But I can’t… I can’t do it”  
“That’s because you’re a good man, Arthur. An honourable cowboy, who woulda thought it?” Arthur laughed, pulling you into another kiss, one that felt relieved and desperate, like he needed to get that off his chest.

Javier spent most of his night playing his guitar, and after having a quick word with you both, giving you a warm hug, he dedicated a beautiful melody to you both, and Arthur had you twirling around by the fire.  
“You know, I got kinda jealous before.”  
“Arthur Morgan, jealous? Of what, exactly?”  
“Flynn getting to dance with you at that party. I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. All eyes were on you tonight and I got to stand there, by your side, showing them all you were mine. And then he came along. I wanted to dance with you. I wanted to break his fingers for touching you.”  
“Well, I’m here now, Arthur. You’ve got me. Forever, apparently.” You giggled.  
“Not long enough.” His lips met yours in a slow, passionate kiss. One that had the drunken men and women surrounding you cheering and whistling.

John awkwardly approached you both late into the evening, apologising for not talking to you sooner. He was so happy for you both, and you could see from his eyes he had avoided you because he had been crying. Seems the whole Marston family were beyond happy for you. He wasn’t very good with words, and simply gave you both a long hug.

As the party began to die down, most people had gone to bed, or, in the case of Bill, Swanson and Uncle, ha passed out by the fire from heavy drinking. Pearson won the contest, it seemed. A few remained by the campfire, singing along with Javier. You and Arthur were sat around a table with Dutch and Hosea, passing around a whiskey bottle as the pair congratulated you for the hundredth time that evening.

“You remember that night? When Hosea walked in on you both…” Dutch started, chuckling to you all as he took a long swig from the bottle.  
“Oh god!” You hid your face in your hands and blushed as everyone else started to laugh. “Dutch, I did not need to be reminded of that on my wedding day!”  
“You should hear about the time Dutch walked in on John and Abigail.” Arthur winked at Dutch and squeezed your thigh, trying to change the subject and stop the heat rising to your cheeks. Dutch coughed up the whiskey he was drinking, laughing away, as you took a swig, handing it to Arthur.  
“I’ve got something, for you both.” Hosea reached into his pocket, pulled out two gold bands. He handed one to both of you.  
“I know young Arthur here said he didn’t have the chance to get you both wedding rings, so I dug these out. It would mean the world to me if you wore them. I know my Bessie will be looking down on you both. She’d be so happy for you.”   
Tears began to stream down your face as you stood and pulled the man into a hug, crying into his chest. You had so many fond memories of him and Bessie. The fact that he passed on his wedding rings to you both caused you to break down, unable to hold the tears back anymore. You placed the wedding band on your finger, above your engagement ring.

You hadn’t noticed Dutch had disappeared until he placed two boxes down on the table with a thud. Arthur was smiling over at you, and grasped your hand in his when you turned to look at the boxes.  
“Dutch… I can’t accept anything from you. You’ve already given me everything.” You stuttered as tears still spilled from your eyes.  
“I had to get you both something. Besides, Arthur helped me pick them out, too.”  
You glanced over at Arthur with a raised eyebrow, and he stood up, wiping away your tears, and placed both your hands on the box in front of you, while he took the other one. You lifted the lid and was greeted by two shining revolvers, and Arthur revealed a matching set. They were the same kind that Dutch used, and you’ve always admired. The revolvers were blackened steel, with silver roses engraved along the barrel, and a pearl grip. A wolf was engraved in black on the grip of one revolver, and a deer on the other. You could see Arthur’s input, as on the other side of the grips read the inscription from Arthur’s drawing many years ago; _I may regret I preyed upon your innocence, dear, but we both enjoy the hunt._

You teared up even more at the gift, sobbing as Dutch walked around to embrace you. His hand soothingly rubbing circles on your back calmed you to the point where you could speak.  
“Thank you, Dutch. For everything.”

Shortly after, you and Arthur were heading off to bed. You were exhausted and tipsy, and honestly just wanted to collapse in the arms of your husband. Dutch made a comment about making sure to lock the door tonight, else Hosea might walk in again. You passed the drunken singing of Karen and Pearson, and Javier’s delicate strumming, and walked hand in hand with Arthur to your room. As soon as the door closed, you turned to kiss him, and was disappointed when he walked straight past you to perch on his bed, scribbling in his journal.  
“Arthur?”  
“Mmhmm?”  
You started to free yourself from your dress.  
“What’re you doing?”  
“Just writing.”  
You pushed the dress down to hit the floor and you bent down to pick it up.  
“What you writing?”  
“…about today. Wanna remember it forever.”  
“Maybe you could try remembering it now.”  
You threw the dress at him, causing him to look up in frustration, which quickly turned into arousal. You stood there in the lingerie he had specifically bought for tonight, and his eyes widened, taking in your whole body. He discarded his journal on the floor; whatever he had started to write would have to be forgotten until the morning. He ran a hand through his hair as he leant back on his elbows, his adoring gaze raking all over your body, before settling on your eyes and turning very lustful.  
“Well, get yourself over here, beautiful.”

_Everything went according to plan. Y/N had no idea. Can’t believe how beautiful she looked tonight. She always looks beautiful, but watching her walk towards me to marry me, I’m pretty sure I nearly passed out. I am the luckiest man in the world. I’ve waited over 10 years to marry this perfect woman, and its fina-_


	25. Never a Dull Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hope you enjoy this chapter! Bit of a short one, and some of the events/missions will probably be a little muddled up but that's just how we're going with it. Moving the story along!
> 
> Big things shall be happening in the next couple of chapters. Expect updates in about a week/week and a half!
> 
> Sorry to keep you waiting, but I don't want to rush things, and I'm super busy with university work!
> 
> Thanks for your continued love and support <3

You woke up, sore, aching, and oh so happy next to Arthur. You stirred in his arms, turning around to look up at him and kiss his stubbled jawline, earning a groan from the man.  
“Five more minutes, Y/N.”  
You giggled at his rough voice and the way he refused to open his eyes, afraid they’d burn in the morning light. You turned to get yourself out of bed, but felt the arms wrapped around you clench around your waist and pull you back, rolling you on top of him. Arthur grumbled again, something about not letting you leave just yet, but his eyes remained closed. Your new position above the cowboy revealed his rather hard member, so you rolled your hips against his, causing his eyes to fly wide open. A wide smile spread across his face, one which you happily mirrored, rolling your hips again.  
“Fine. I’m awake.”

After he spoke, he flipped you over onto your back and towered above you, roughly kissing you as he entered you. You were still sore from all the fun you had last night, but that quickly melted away at the feeling of him thrusting into you. Sleep clouded both of your visions, and you could see Arthur fighting to keep his eyes open, both from the sudden light he was exposed to, and the pleasure building within him. 

You loved mornings like this. Where one woke the other with sex. It happened often, and it always felt so intimate. Straight to the point, and yet, cuddly, close, and loving. Arthur’s hand would roam all around your body, and his lips would barely ever leave yours. It was your favourite way to wake up – with your legs wrapped around that man. And while this particular encounter didn’t last long, it was sweet. He waited for your release before he chased after his own, keeping his lips against yours as he moaned into your mouth. You lay there, your limbs entangled with each other’s, for a while, before finally rising out of bed.

Most of the campmates were sat around the fire, drinking cup after cup of coffee, nursing their hangovers. You and Arthur decided to sit with Jack, who was, at the time, sat at a table, playing dominoes by himself.

“So, what do you have planned today, Arthur?” you asked, smiling over at the man who had just lost to the young boy, with a disgruntled look on his face.  
“Er, business in Saint Denis. Dutch has plans for that trolley station Bronte mentioned.”  
You sighed. You were sure there was nothing of value there, and you didn’t trust Bronte.  
“Be careful, okay? I’m headed into Saint Denis too, a little later.” Arthur eyed you inquisitively as you spoke, and you handed him the letter you kept in your satchel. The one from your father. As he read it, his eyebrows furrowed with worry, his eyes darkening.  
“Oh. Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?”  
“I think it’s probably best I do this alone. You don’t exactly see eye to eye.” You peered over at Jack, who was still smiling away at his victory. “Besides, maybe you could some time to get better at dominoes so poor Jack here has some real competition!” you winked, as Jack laughed without a care in the world. 

Before you parted for the day, Arthur spun you around into a warm embrace and a very passionate kiss. You smiled into it, amused at the sudden gesture.  
“I love you, Y/N.”  
“I love you too, Arthur.”

The streets of Saint Denis were thick with fog and filled with those who enjoyed the life of high society. Pretty dresses and fancy waistcoats. Women walking around in the midday sun basking in the light. Sneering looks and jibbing comments. You couldn’t be happier for your own way of life.

The hotel stood before you, dauntingly imposing upon your small frame. You pushed open the bright red doors, the paint peeling off in your hands, and walked through another doorway into the restaurant area. You couldn’t mistake that slumped over figure, drunkenly swaying at the bar, for anyone other than your father. You felt an overwhelming sense of pity for the man. What had his life become?

You approached him slowly, placing a hand between his shoulder blades as you sat on the stool next to him.  
“Little early for that, isn’t it?”  
“Y/N? I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He looked as if he was going to hug you, but stopped himself, knowing the gesture would not be welcomed. You could see a little sorrow in his eyes, mixed with some other emotions you couldn’t quite interpret in his inebriated state.  
“Figured I could give you an hour of my time. Not that you deserve it.”  
“I’m glad to see you.”  
“I wish I could say the same. Never thought I’d be sat with you again.” You eyed him suspiciously. He continuously alternated between not enough eye contact, and then too much eye contact.  
“How’s Dutch? Where are you guys staying?”  
“No. I’m not falling for that. Is that why you brought me here? You heard about the price on his head and you want that for yourself? I won’t be your puppet, father. Not anymore. You said I was more important to you than some paycheck!”  
“You are. I didn’t mean it like that…” he seemed flustered, and regretful.  
“Look, someone once told me that everyone deserves a second chance. So, I’m gonna come back tomorrow. And I hope to God you’re sober, because it’s the last chance you’re ever gonna get.”

With that said, you stormed off, not listening to him calling your name. You got back on your horse and rode around for a while. Through the swamps. Out by Rhodes, keeping your distance from the town. Up near Valentine. You just rode, trying to clear your head from whatever your father was going through. You worried about him. You worried and that hurt, because he didn’t deserve your concern. Not after everything he’s done.

As you approached camp, the sun was beginning to set, and the sky was ablaze with deep red and purple hues. You had a deep sense of dread as you grew nearer, and that sense of dread was justified when you saw what had become of camp. Bodies lay strewn everywhere. Your eyes searched around, and you screamed for the first person you feared had been hurt.  
“Arthur!”  
That hat popped out from around the side of the house, where he was helping get rid of the bodies. He ran up to you and held you close, like he needed the comfort of feeling you safe in his arms.  
“I am so glad you’re okay. Today… well today’s been tough.”  
“What happened here?”  
“Me, Lenny and Dutch got back from the trolley station – which was a complete set up, by the way. You were right, Bronte had the law waiting on us – and a while later, O’Driscolls attacked. And, er…”   
You followed Arthur’s eyes and your gaze landed on a body, head removed, laying in front of the fountain. Poor Kieran… A choked sob rose up as the breath was knocked out of you. Arthur held you again, as he spoke, sorrow evident in his voice.  
“He… he saved my life. I never had the chance to save his. God dammit, last thing I said to him was a threat. I shoulda-” You shushed him, looking up into his darkened eyes, an agonistic war lying behind them, and you cupped his cheek with your delicate hand. His eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the touch.

You stood there while, until you felt other people’s gaze upon you. You stepped back out of his embrace, smiling slightly.  
“Not exactly what I had in mind for married life, but should we go get rid of some dead O’Driscolls together?”  
Arthur chuckled. Although the smile didn’t reach his eyes, you know he appreciated your attempt to lighten the mood.  
“Marriage – never a dull moment, huh darlin’?”


	26. Ain't About Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the inactivity lately, and for this short chapter. Just something little to keep you going while I write and edit the next chapter.
> 
> Apologies, you know when you just want to get things written but, in the wise words of Jeff Goldblum, "Life finds a way"
> 
> I'll try not to leave you hanging too long! I'm sorry! <3

Before you had much time to comprehend what had really happened, Dutch was planning revenge. First on his hit list – Angelo Bronte. You’d barely removed the bodies from camp before he was yelling orders around. You hand you arm around Mary-Beth’s shoulders. Anyone could tell she was sweet on Kieran, and his untimely death had hit her hard. You shuffled the crying woman into the arms of Karen, who was heavily drunk, but it was better than leaving Mary-Beth alone.

“What’s going on?” you asked inquisitively, approaching Dutch and Arthur.  
“We don’t need to take revenge.” Hosea yelled, catching up to Dutch.  
“This ain’t about revenge, Hosea. Angelo Bronte don’t mean shit to me.” A lie, you knew. Whenever Dutch lied to Hosea in the past, it never ended well. They trust each other entirely, and when Dutch broke that trust, when Dutch was desperate enough to lie to his most entrusted friend right to his face, it had serious repercussions. “This is about the fact that we about to rob a bank in his town.”

Your eyes widened a little at this announcement. This was the first you’d heard about a bank robbery, and by the apologetic look on Arthur’s face, he hadn’t known for long either. Dutch explained how he had a viable way to sneak into Bronte’s compound by boat. This plan was risky at best.  
“Who’re you taking?” you asked. This whole operation needed to be quick and quiet. It could be easily compromised by one single slip up.  
“Arthur, John, Lenny. And…” Dutch paused, thinking, “Bill.”  
“No. Take me.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Take me. No offence to the man, but,” your eyes wandered over to where Bill sat at the fire, swigging from his third bottle of beer, “you need someone quiet. Someone stealthy. Who better than the girl you trained yourself?”  
A hint of a smile played on Dutch’s lips, before he gave a nod, and turned to his horse, calling for John and Lenny to mount up.  
“What was that about? Why you so desperate to come along?” Arthur asked, his eyebrows furrowed with a little worry.  
“This all seems… dangerous. Dutch is way to riled up.” You sighed, taking Arthur’s hands in yours. “You remember the day before Sean… when you had that bad feeling? Well, I’m getting that feeling, Arthur. This don’t feel right. Guess I wanna make sure no one else gets hurt.”  
Arthur wiped away a tear rolling down your cheek that you weren’t aware had fallen, and gave you a soft smile, hiding his own worry. Poorly, you might add. The man was never able to hide his emotions from you.  
“I know what you mean. Something ain’t right. But you know you can’t change Dutch’s mind ones he has a plan.” He placed a quick kiss on your cheek to ease you a little, before taking your hand and bringing you over to your horses.  
“Just… try not to worry too much, darlin’. We ain’t ever gonna let anything happen to each other, that much I know. And, Dutch don’t need to know this, but that’s the most important thing to me right now.” 

You took solace in Arthur’s words, and mounted up, riding deep into the swamps. The boat ride was silent, the tension choking you almost as much the suffocating, muggy air of the swamps. Everything was so disgustingly warm, even the gentle breeze that tickled your skin, heating the sweat dripping down your brow. Uncomfortable was the only word you could use to describe it. The weather, and the atmosphere. You could all feel the anger and hatred radiating from Dutch. All you could do was pray it didn’t compromise your safety.


End file.
